


Bits and Pieces

by woa



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Depression, Eating Disorder, Gen, Hospitalization, In later chapters - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:20:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 67
Words: 63,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woa/pseuds/woa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick has an eating disorder.<br/>The guys don't know what to do.<br/>He ends up in the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revamping the story.

“Trick?”

Pete’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

Patrick hesitated before responding

“Yeah? I’ll be out in a minute Pete.”

Patrick thanked whatever divine being that his voice hadn’t cracked; that he didn’t sound like he had just shoved three fingers down his throat and forced his lunch back up and into the porcelain toilet.

Which was what had just happened, but Pete didn’t need to know that...

No one could know.

Some part of Patrick’s deluded mind knew that what he was doing--- this messed up cycle of starving himself and puking his guts out when he did eat (usually because he couldn't handle the looks Pete, Joe, and Andy would shoot him) was wrong

“Are you okay?”

Pete asked, breaking Patrick out of his thoughts.

Patrick almost laughed.

 _No_ , he thought, _I’m fat and ugly, how can you stand being seen with me, Pete?_

 

 

...............................

 

Patrick couldn’t think straight.

He was having trouble breathing.

He couldn’t remember the lyrics.

What verse were they on?

What cord was he supposed to play??

He should have eaten something before the show...

He shouldn’t have purged after dinner with the guys last night.

He- he couldn’t see straight!

His vision began to fade out.

His guitar slipped through his fingers and swung behind him from the strap connected around his neck.

He stumbled.

Everything was too loud!

Who was screaming!?

The fans??

His knees gave out, and he saw his fedora tumble in front of him on the stage.

“PATRICK!!!!” someone screamed but he fell forward and his head connected with the cold stage floor before he could answer whoever it was.

Someone screamed but he fell forward and his head connected with the cold stage floor before he could answer whoever it was.

The last thing Patrick saw before he lost consciousness was Pete and Joe running towards him.

 

 

**.......................**

**BEEP BEEP BEEP**

**.......................**

Patrick woke up slowly.

His eyelids felt heavy, and he was so warm.

(he was never warm anymore- always cold)

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw white.

A white sheet and white blanket, white walls, white ceiling, and white linoleum floor.

The fluorescent lighting shone too bright.

On his left arm was an IV; taped and secured to his pale skin.

On his right, he saw his friends.

They looked horrible- they looked worse than he felt.

Joe was leaning back on the chair with his head hitting the wall, his mouth open and snoring, with his hair covering his eyes.

Next to Joe was Pete, who was half cuddling Joe’s leg, he too was asleep.

Andy was sitting straight up with his head tilted forward, so his chin hit his chest.

Patrick couldn’t tell if he was asleep.

Patrick licked his chapped lips and tried to sit up but felt weak and too dizzy.

He let out a small whimper and Andy’s head shot up, and Patrick saw that he had dark shadows under his eyes.

“Hey... You’re awake.”

Andy whispered, almost reverently.

Patrick just nodded confused.

“We-- I mean-- I’ll-- I'll go and get the doctor, yeah?”

Andy stuttered before pushing Pete’s legs off his chair and getting up.

“Just don’t go anywhere.”

He said before rushing out of the room, leaving Patrick even more confused. 

_(where would he go?)_

Andy had awoken Pete by pushing him off, and Pete’s eyes were wide as he looked up at Patrick on the hospital bed.

“TRICK! YOU’RE ALIVE!” Pete yelled- waking up Joe (and anyone else in the vicinity).

As Joe swore, Pete moved and rushed to Patrick's bedside.

“Where’s Andy?”

Joe asked as he slumped in the chair, yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

“He said he was getting the doctor.”

Patrick murmured as Pete squeezed his hand.

Pete hummed, and Joe yawned again.

Patrick was about to ask a question when Andy walked in with a blonde middle aged woman.

“Ah, Mr. Stump, I'm glad to see you awake, you gave us all quite a scare.”

She said before moving to Patrick’s bedside and checking the machines and his pulse.

“Um... Sorry?”

Patrick mumbled.

“Oh, right, I’m Dr. Morrison, I’ve been your primary doctor for the past three days. Can you sit up?”

Patrick did- shooting up fast

“Three DAYS!?”

He shrieked.

Everyone jumped slightly at the near hysteria in Patrick's voice, and Pete let go of his hand.

“But how-- I-- why...?”

Patrick trailed off.

The heart monitor connected to him was beeping increasingly fast.

“Mr. Stump, I need you to calm down. Do you remember how you came to be in the hospital?”

Dr. Morrison asked as she stepped forward with her hands raised in a placating manner.

Andy and Pete both gently pushed Patrick back down against his pillows.

“Calm down”

Andy whispered.

Dr. Morrison explained

“Almost four days ago you were driven to the ER after you had fainted on stage at a concert of yours. When you arrived into my care, I discovered that you were severely malnourished, dehydrated and underweight. Your friends here told me that you haven’t been eating properly and that they have their own suspicions that you may be purging after the meals you do eat."

She cast him a calculating look before continuing.

"Given your conditions Mr. Stump, it is my medical and professional opinion that you be put in treatment for an eating disorder. However, since you are an adult I cannot force you into treatment. And if your decision is to not go inpatient in a facility then I strongly recommend that you seek outside counseling and meet with a nutritionist. I can see that your friends care a lot about you and I believe that they will help you in recovery.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone, especially Patrick took in what Dr. Morrison said.

Pete was the first to agree, saying

“Trick, doc’s right, we’re here for you”

while Joe and Andy nodded.

Patrick however was frozen as Pete hugged him.

_(he didn’t have... an eating disorder?..no... he... so what, he threw up after eating sometimes.... and skipped a few meals... he just wasn’t hungry.... and he knew- he fucking knew that the doctor was lying when she said he was “underweight”.... couldn’t they all see how FAT he was?!?!?)_

“Trick? Man, hey, don’t cry.”

Pete whispered in his ear. 

( _cry... was he- yeah he was)_

“Yeah Patrick, if you cry then I’ll cry, and I’m a big mess when I cry- remember Toy Story 3?”

Joe joked and Patrick laughed/sobbed.

Then Patrick was surrounded by the arms of Pete, Andy, and Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re-edited 5/27/16


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick didn’t like the hospital.

He had always been a healthy kid and had never been in the hospital overnight before- for himself.

There was that one time that Pete got really sick and had to stay overnight, and Patrick stayed too; the entire band had, but this was the first time that he was the patient.

Laying on the bed with the uncomfortable blankets and pillows, hooked up to machines and getting ~~sugary calorie filled~~ fluids pumped into him.

 

Dr. Morrison had left- to let Patrick think about his ‘options.'

There really weren’t any, in his opinion.

Either he goes inpatient and the band slips into another hiatus (or just falls apart completely).

Or he continues with the tour and Pete, Andy, and Joe would never trust him alone again.

Either way, he’ll have to gain weight, and he’ll be (more) fat again.

A laughing stock.

Everyone was silent.

Pete was having a wordless conversation with Joe using complicated eyebrow movements and slight turns of the corners of mouths and head tilts.

Andy was staring at Patrick, who was looking anywhere but at Andy.

The thoughts going through Patrick’s head were vile and nasty and revolved around the filthy names that others had called him, and he had called himself.

“Trick?”

Pete’s voice broke the silence and Patrick from his thoughts.

“I know you’re thinking about the tour and what Dr. Morrison said- and we all are- but dude your health comes first.”

Pete continued even though Patrick opened his mouth to argue.

“I know you probably think it’s not but if it were me- or Joe or Andy- in that hospital bed instead of you, you wouldn’t want us to endanger ourselves just to complete the tour right?”

Pete asked rhetorically, and Patrick wouldn’t look him in the eye.

(he was right)

Joe continued.

“Look, Patrick, this is serious. Dr. Morrison talked to us while you were still unconscious and we didn't know if you would wake up." 

Joe swallowed thickly and bit his cheek before going on.

She gave us some facts, like did you know that eating disorders have a higher mortality rate than all other mental disorders and that you have a greater chance of surviving some forms of cancer than an eating disorder!?”

There was another silence as Joe took a deep breath.

“Patrick?”

Andy prodded when Patrick hadn’t responded.

“Do you understand what is going on? How serious the matter is?”

Patrick wouldn’t look at anyone.

His eyes were transfixed on his hands that were clenching the blanket that lay over his lap.

“Guys, it’s—it’s not—not that big of a deal. I – I just – I haven’t been very hungry… so I haven’t been eating that much… and I—I mean it’s- it’s not like I don’t have weight to lose—I mean---“

Patrick mumbled and trailed off at the end.

Joe- impulsive Joe who had been so calm- jumped in saying

“NO! You don’t have any weight to lose; you’re SKIN AND BONES!”

Patrick jumped back in shock as Joe yelled.

Andy wrapped a hand around Joe’s forearm and pulled him into a short hug.

Patrick quickly got over his shock and glared at Joe in anger and disbelief.

_“Don’t lie to me, Joseph.”_

He spat.

Pete clambered onto the hospital bed, whispering "shh"'s and wrapped his arms around Patrick- careful of the wires and tubes connected to his best friend.

“Tricky, stop, it’s true… we’re worried. We’re downright terrified."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited 5/27/16


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick didn’t know what he was going to do.

He had decided that he definitely did not want to go inpatient in a psychiatric center.

So he had just finished signing his discharge papers and was waiting for Dr. Morrison to come in for a final _'talk'_ with him as well as the guys.

Said men were sitting (Joe), curled up against Patrick on the bed (Pete), or standing and looking impassively at the door (Andy).

Pete had barely detached himself from Patrick’s side.

Joe hadn’t left the room- aside from basic bodily functions- and kept asking Patrick things like

“Are you okay?” (normal for Joe- because of his OCD)

or

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat a little bit more?”

Which grated on Patrick’s nerves and he always had to stop himself from snapping something like

“No, I don’t fucking want anything to eat- especially not this SUGARY CARB-FILLED GARBAGE!”

Because that wouldn’t help his case and the hurt and sad look in Joe’s eyes would just get so much worse.

And Andy- Andy was probably the worst.

He hadn’t really talked to Patrick as much as Joe and Pete had-- Pete would always whisper things like

“ _You're perfect Patrick_ ” or

_“you’re sick, eat and you’ll get better.”_

or

“ _You're too thin ‘Trick_ ”

(which were all lies, but Patrick humored him).

No, Andy would just shoot Patrick looks of hurt, confusion, pity, and guilt. The last of which made Patrick’s stomach twist- and not from the food he was forced to eat.

 A nurse came in while Patrick was thinking about this all.

Andy straightened and moved away from the wall he was leaning on.

Joe looked up from his phone, and Pete stopped petting Patrick’s head.

“Alright Mr. Stump, Dr. Morrison will be in to see you soon. I’m here to take out your IV’s and check your vitals so we can release you.”

The nurse- Peggy her nametag said- explained in a cheerful and kind voice.

Pete reluctantly let go of Patrick and climbed off the bed so Peggy could access Patrick’s arm.

Pete walked over to Andy, and the two of them started whispering.

Joe, who was closer than Patrick, could hear them and would occasionally nod while tapping on his phone.

Patrick scowled at them as Peggy puttered around him.

After she pulled out all of the tubes and needles out of him, took his blood pressure, temperature, and the like she left telling him

“be good now, and take care of yourself.”

To which Pete answered loudly

“Oh he will- we promise.”

Before Patrick could.

Once she was gone Patrick turned to glare at his bandmates.

“What!?”

He spat at them folding his arms across his chest.

Pete ‘innocently’ put his hands up while Joe sighed.

Andy was the one who answered, stepping around Pete and coming to stand at the foot of the hospital bed.

“Look we’ve been talking and well we have like three weeks left of the tour- then we’re on break for two weeks.”

He paused and Patrick interjected

“I know the fucking schedule, Andrew.”

But Andy continued as if Patrick hadn’t said a thing

“- and I know that during breaks we tend to avoid one another because we’ve been stuck together for months while touring, but we.”

he gestured to Pete, Joe, and himself

“think it would be best if one of us stayed with you- like we’ll switch up every three days or so, but we don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to be on your own. And I talked about it with Dr. Morrison, and she agrees.”

Now Patrick was fuming!

‘H _how fucking dare they!_  '

He thought.

“Oh really!?”

He said aloud, sarcastically.

“You all decided that what!? I need a fucking babysitter!? Well, guess what- I’m a motherfucking adult, and so fuck you - I don’t have to take this shit!”

At the exact moment when Patrick finished yelling, Dr. Morrison appeared in the door.

“Yes, Mr. Stump, you are an adult but right now you’re acting like a child. These gentlemen.”

She gestured to Andy, Joe, and Pete

“Are your friend and they care about you- perhaps more than you do yourself since they want you to be healthy and they - much like myself- do not like watching you slowly kill yourself.”

Dr. Morrison’s voice was cold and firm.

But her eyes were on fire.

Patrick had calmed down a bit after yelling and looked at his band.

Joe looked like someone had killed a puppy in front of him.

Pete was crying a bit.

And Andy- was as stoic looking as ever but he nodded quickly to Patrick.

Patrick slumped and dropped his head into his hands.

“But I’m not... I... you guys just don’t get it... I’m not doing anything wrong... I just.... I just need to do this.... to be better... just for you- for the band and the fans... I-I-I don’t want to...”

He mumbled and soon he felt someone’s- probably Pete- hand rub his back in soothing circles.

Patrick stayed hunched over for a few minutes, crying and mumbling gibberish.

Finally, he lifted his head and saw that Pete was sitting across from him at the foot of the bed- cross-legged.

Joe looked like he was going to fall off the right side of the bed, not having enough room to sit properly.

And it was Andy who was right beside Patrick and whose hand was still rubbing his back.

Dr. Morrison was sitting in the chair that Joe had been in.

She was looking at him with something like ‘professional pity’, but Patrick saw genuine care in her blue eyes and her wan smile she sent him before standing up and walking over to stand right behind Joe.

“Mr. Stump, I understand that from your point of view there is nothing wrong with skipping a few meals, or purging, or just refusing to eat, but I assure you - as a doctor and as someone who had been in your position and recovered... what you’re doing is so very harmful and if you do not begin recovering your health will decrease dramatically and I’m sorry but, your singing- your music- your job will suffer- you may even find that if you continue you will lose that amazing voice of yours.”

Patrick looked at her in shock- and he had heard Pete’s gasp when she said she had been like Patrick.

“Ho-how did you...”

Patrick tried to ask, but he couldn’t really find the words.

_‘How did you stop? Why would you? But you’re still so thin! How did you stop the voices in your head? Did you have them? The ones that assure you that you’re a fat blubbering whale?’_

Patrick thought.

“It was hard. I won’t lie to you, Mr. Stump.”

Dr. Morrison answered his unfinished question.

“I was where you are right now, furious at my family”

Again she gestured to Joe, Andy, and Pete.

“And confused because I didn’t see anything wrong with what I was doing- I thought ‘hey it’s my body’ and ‘I’m just being healthy’ and I justified to myself that I needed to lose 1, 2, 20 pounds. But when I was 16 I fainted in school, and fell down a flight of stairs. I woke up in a hospital, and the doctors said that my heart had just stopped- I was malnourished and it didn’t have enough fuel to function. From then, I really didn’t have a choice-- but I kicked and screamed as much as I could with a broken leg, 3 fractured ribs, a dislocated hip, and bedridden. I fought so hard against the nurses, doctors, my family, and treatment that I had to be restrained and a feeding tube was forced down my throat. I was in the hospital for 4 months. And because of my disease along with my injuries from falling, I can no longer run- I was co-captain for my high schools track team. Please, Mr. Stump- do not do what I did. I lost myself so much of myself to this disease. I finally committed to recovery and had my great epiphany when my best friend, Caroline, who was also anorexic and bulimic- but never hospitalized, died. Her heart gave out just like mine had, but she was home alone. When I went to the funeral, I didn’t see my best friend in the casket, I saw skeleton with skin, masquerading as my dead friend. Mr. Stump, it’s not my choice- or your friends- if you’ll recover- it’s yours. But do you really want to die?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re-edited 5/27/16


	4. Chapter 4

There was a pregnant pause after Dr. Morrison asked the question.

Patrick had been been staring at Dr. Morrison in confused awe while she was speaking but never met her or anyone’s eyes.

But he had dropped his head back into his hands and drew his knees in again.

Andy placed his hand back on Patrick’s back and rubbed in small circular patterns.

Joe quickly climbed onto the bed, pushing Pete over and then both Pete and Joe shuffled closer to Patrick and (somewhat awkwardly) hugged Patrick.

When Patrick felt all of his band mates holding and comforting him, he began to sob.

Dr. Morrison stood awkwardly for a minute while Patrick wailed before she moved to sit in the chair.

She knew that Patrick needed time to process all of what she said, and she tried to give him space by pulling out her phone and checking her emails.

Eventually, Patrick’s sobs dwindled, and he lifted his head and wiped at his eyes.

Dr. Morrison looked up and saw Pete, Joe, and Andy tried to discreetly wipe away their tears.

“Mr. Stump?”

she asked, tucking her phone away.

Pete sat back giving Patrick space- pulling Joe with him, but Andy kept his hand on Patrick’s left shoulder.

Patrick took a steadying breath then said

“I - I still don’t want to be put in an inpatient program, but, I - I’ll try to - recover- I - I started this because I......”

he paused and took two deep breaths

“I think I would like to get professional help- like I don’t know a therapist- I feel like a... well I- look guys. I’m sorry. But sometimes, I just when I wake up- I just - I wish I hadn’t. Not because I want more sleep or that, but because like.....”

Patrick trailed off again.

And Pete, who was squeezing Joe’s hand in a death grip spoke softly saying,

“You just don’t want to wake up at all. You wanted to just not have to deal with life anymore. You think something along the lines of ‘ _the world would be better off without you_ ’ and Jesus fuck dude you couldn’t be more wrong... Trick - you’re one of my best friends, and I love you like a brother. You’re golden Trick.”

Pete’s voice was firm and hadn’t wavered, but more tears ran freely down his face.

Joe moved towards Patrick, pulling his hand from Pete and said slowly in a broken voice

“Dude, Pete’s right- and that’s a miracle in and of itself- but look you’re like the best thing that happened to me. And you _are_ my brother, and I love you so much.... and whatever is going on in that genius head of your’s that’s got you thinking these things about not being ‘ _good enough_ ’ for the band or whatever... That’s absolute bullshit. Okay? Jesus. If anything, it’s the rest of us that aren’t good enough for you. Goddamn, Patrick- I mean I know Pete tells you this all the time and maybe you just brush it off because it’s Pete or whatever but look your voice is like a gift from God. Like honestly Patrick, and I just- I need you, okay? We all do. Even Andy, who looks like he doesn't care, - he does and Jesus Christ dude. Just - whatever you need to get better- whatever the fuck I- we- can do, just ask or tell us and I swear to God- I swear on my great grandma’s grave that I- we- will.”

Joe finished and aggressively wiped tears from his face.

Then Patrick, who was also crying pulled Joe in for another hug.

And said in a wavering voice...

  
“I want to get better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re-edited 5/30/16


	5. Chapter 5

It had been 4 hours since Patrick was released from the hospital and they all got back on the road for the last bit of the tour.

Dr. Morrison had given Andy - since he was the most ‘ _trustworthy_ ’- Patrick’s discharge papers.

Which included her card, ‘ _just in case_ ’, a list of psychologists, nutritionists, therapists, and doctors who specialized in eating disorders, all of whom lived in the Chicago area- who Patrick had to choose from by the end of the week and set up appointments with.

Also in the packet was a ‘temporary’ meal plan that Dr. Morrison and another, more specialized doctor had put together.

Along with a small list of things that Patrick could do if he started to feel triggered or anxious;

this included playing his guitar, taking a shower, talking to one of the guys or crew members, playing video games, or writing it out.

Currently Patrick was doing none of the above, and instead was hiding.

Though it wouldn’t be that hard for anyone to find him.

They were all on a single bus (no one wanted to leave Patrick) and he was sure that everyone knew he was in his bunk.

The reason he was curled up in his bunk with a blanket over him and the curtain closed was that a couple minutes ago Pete had announced that they were going to stop for dinner soon.

So Patrick had hid.

First he had retreated to the bathroom- because he was still uncomfortably full from the lunch he had eaten at the hospital.

But he had had to relocated from the bathroom when Joe knocked and said he needed to take a piss- about a minute after he shut the door.

So here Patrick was.

Panicking, hyperventilating, and digging his fingernails into ~~the skin~~ (the fat) of his ~~concave~~ (distended).

He had eaten ~~pretty well~~ (too much, too much) the past few days in the hospital.

But there Dr. Morrison had told Joe, Andy, and Pete to eat in the cafeteria and leave Patrick alone while he ate.

Which helped, because he didn’t like people watching him ~~eat~~ (stuff his fat face).

So it was only him and whatever nurse was on duty in the room during meals.

The nurse- who usually read- was there to make sure he did eat, they would check his blankets and clothes to make sure he hadn’t hid any food.

That had only happened the first day.

But the disappointed looks made him stop.

That and the threat that ‘if he kept it up he would be here longer’.

But back to him hiding behind a thin curtain.

Patrick could hear everyone on the bus- Pete, Joe, and some crew member playing video games in the back room, Andy reading and drumming lightly in his own bunk, or the bus driver humming to the song on the radio.

Patrick tried to burrow in more and maybe disappear as the horrible voices in his head yelled.

**A short time later.**

The driver pulled into a nearly empty parking lot, still humming, and parked.

Joe stumbled out of the backroom cursing Pete under his breath.

Pete- that bastard- was laughing his ass off.

Joe stopped in the middle of the hallway and reached over to shake Andy awake- somehow he had fallen asleep.

Then Joe stepped forward a bit more- in front of Patrick’s bunk- and bent down.

Joe then ‘knocked’ on the side.

“Hey, Patrick? We’re parked. We’re getting out real soon and gonna get some food. Patrick is tha---”

Joe stopped when Patrick’s bony hand grabbed his ankle.

“Patrick?”

Joe asked, not moving.

“Hey, Joe”

came Patrick’s soft voice.

“I’m- I’m- well I’m kinda freaking out.”

Patrick admitted, his face contorting as the voices screamed at him for being weak.

Joe slowly opened the curtain after Patrick redrew his hand.

Patrick curled up further and move over so Joe climbed in.

“Hey buddy”

Joe smiled shortly

“what’s got you freaked?”

Patrick scoffed, putting both hands back on his stomach and resumed pinching and pulling at the ~~skin~~ (fat).

“What do you think, Joe?”

Patrick tried to deflect.

“Dinner, I’m guessing”

Joe replied trying to keep his voice light.

Patrick pinched harder and nodded.

“I just- I’m still full from lunch - and - I don’t want you guys watching me! and yes I know it’s dumb and stupid but I just.....”

Patrick trailed off in frustration.

Joe hummed and bumped his knee against Patrick’s bony one.

“Well”

Joe started

“I know we mainly stopped for gas and because Pete told the driver that you needed food that wasn’t, and I quote ‘fritos and shit’”

Patrick laughed as Joe tried to imitate Pete’s voice.

“But”

Joe continued

“We don’t have to do a sit down dinner thing at some dinner in whatever fuck town we’re in. We could do take out and eat on the bus. Watch some tv or something”

Joe suggested and Patrick bit his cracked lips as he thought about it.

“But the whole point of stopping to get something to eat is to get off the bus”

Patrick countered and Joe nodded.

“Well yeah, but you would feel more comfortable eating on the bus. Plus it will save time and we’ll get to the venue even earlier.”

Joe shrugged, looking carefully at Patrick who he had noticed had both of his hands around his too ~~small~~ (round, grotesque, pudgy) waist underneath his much too ~~large~~ (small) shirt.

Patrick’s hands twist and his shirt scrunched up as he thought.

Joe then saw his fingers digging into the now red-marked skin.

Joe then quickly snatched Patrick’s hands away.

“Don’t do that little man”

Joe looked directly into Patricks eyes

“C’mon let’s get food then come back and take over the back room- I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”

Patrick nodded sheepishly and climbed out of his bunk after Joe.

Both men walked to the front of the bus and found Pete and Andy talking to the driver.

“Trick! Joseph!”

Pete squealed before he bounced over to the two and patted Joe’s head- who scowled and moved past him to Andy- then pressed a kiss to Patrick’s (puffy, chubby, fat) cheek.

“Hey”

Pete whispered, still too close to Patrick.

But Patrick just smiled and replied

“Hey Pete”

Pete smiled and then linked his arm with Patrick’s.

With Patrick attached he dragged him to the door while pushing Joe and Andy.

“Trohman, Hurley, My Liege. onward we go to the fine halls of ..... where the hell are we?”

Pete said in a mock- british voice.

Which made Patrick giggle, Joe smile, and Andy groan.

“We’re in Lexington, Kentucky about 5 and half hours from tomorrow's venue, Wentz”

Andy remarked dryly.

“Right, right”

Pete muttered patting his and Patrick’s linked arms.

“So hey guys, Patrick and I were just gonna get something to go and eat on the bus. Stump, you pick a movie yet?”

Joe mentioned quickly looking at Patrick- and found him staring purposefully at the ground.

Then Joe looked at Pete and Andy - mentally willing them to not make a big deal out of it or crowd Patrick.

Andy nodded and Pete pursed his lips but released Patrick’s arm.

“Alright then, you two have fun, but Joe you know Trick likes to watch rom coms and shit.”

Pete teased then kissed Patrick’s cheek again, causing Patrick to look up and glare at him.

But it didn’t have any heat in it and Patrick was actually grateful Pete was letting this go.

“Okay, Wentz you’re with me. See if we can find some vegan-friendly place here”

Andy said in a way that implied that he knew there wasn’t going to be one.

 ****  



	6. Chapter 6

“C’mon Patrick, I think I see a Chipolte over there.”

Joe nudged Patrick and walked over to the right.

“So Mack’s going to fill up the bus and some of the crew’s going with him so we have like ten to fifteen minutes until the bus is back and we can watch whatever so....”

Joe paused looking at Patrick, who had pulled his good up and had his arms wrapped around his middle.

“Hey, Patrick?”

Joe started.

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay- because it’s pretty obvious that you’re not, and haven’t been for a while and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you or pushed

hard enough when we- I first noticed that something was up. And I’m sorry that it took you actually passing out on stage and almost dying for us- me to get our

acts together and help you, but it’s going to be okay, and you’re going to get better and right now we’re going to get some food. You’re going to probably want to

not get anything, because you’re still full from lunch or like get a salad or something, but dude, we all memorized your meal plan thingy and you should be eating

like 3 starches, 3 proteins, 2 fats, a vegetable, and yeah so like get a burrito or something please.”

Joe looked away from Patrick as he talked and focused instead on navigating the cracked path and saying what needed to be said.

Patrick, on the other hand, was lucky he hadn’t tripped.

He was paying absolutely no attention to the path, he was just barely following Joe.

In some part of his mind Patrick knew that he was going to have to eat more food.

And he had been there when Dr. Morrison explained his meal plan, but hearing Joe talk about it and walking closer and closer to the restaurant (hell) had Patrick anxious again.

It also had the small vicious little voices in his head screaming at him, and he was considering running away from the food, from Joe, and maybe just from everything(life).

Then he stumbled and looked up to see that they had arrived and he had nearly face planted onto the sidewalk.

Joe, being a gentleman, opened the door for him and the smell of the ~~delicious~~ (vile, repulsive, fattening) food hit him and his stomach growled.

Which made Patrick jump in shock, which in turn made Joe give him a look.

It had been a while since his stomach had growled for food, and it had been even longer since he paid attention to it.

And Patrick couldn’t even remember when the last time he had listened to his body and fed it without at least 2 hours of self-loathing and anxiety.

Joe had moved inside but turned back to Patrick, who was stuck just inside the door.

Joe walked back over to him and leaned in

“Stump? Hey Patrick, you with me buddy?”

Joe asked in a low voice.

Patrick mentally shook himself, and tried to think over the voices.

“Yeah, Joe, I’m good, let’s just order and get out of here.”

Patrick tried to convey his resolve and not his growing displeasure.

And he must have been successful because Joe’s face lit up in a bright smile.

“Alright man, you go first and I’ll pay- don’t argue.”

Patrick nodded even though he didn’t want Joe to waste his money on him- but he supposed, it wouldn’t be much of a waste since he was going to eat the food and not puke it back up.

There wasn’t much of a line so Patrick didn’t have much time to choose.

So by the time he stood before the cashier he panicked before ordering a burrito bowl with Sofritas, black beans, brown rice, lettuce, veggies, and salsa.

And yes he looked back at Joe to make sure this was an appropriate amount of food, since it had been a while since Patrick ate like a normal human.

In the past months it was either no food at all **(perfect)** or too little (too much), what could be considered a normal amount (get rid of it) or, at times where he broke down a huge monstrosity of binging food (FAT,FAT, FAT).

Which the latter two - and sometimes any food at all- had him kneeling over a porcelain toilet with his fingers down his throat.

But now here in Lexington, Kentucky, where he was trying to ‘recover’ Patrick looked back at Joe for guidance he got a thumbs up and a smile.

So Patrick moved down the line and waited for Joe to order his own food.

“Doing good buddy?”

Joe whispered as he paid for both of them and grabbed both bags of food.

Patrick nodded and grabbed some napkins and plasticware.

“Alright! So back to the bus”

Joe directed Patrick and himself out the door and back down the path.

Since it hadn’t taken them that long to get the food Joe walked slowly and hummed under his breath.

Patrick was walking right next to Joe and was leeching off of Joe’s heat- Patrick was always so cold- and in his head Patrick was having yet another internal war between the part of him that wanted to recover and the other (stronger?) that was telling him things like

“too fat”

“not good enough”

“fatty patty”

“die”.

Patrick thought briefly that if this was what recovery was going to be like- fighting a never ending battle with himself- if it was even worth it, if anything was really worth it.

Joe noticed as Patrick bit his bottom lip and wrung his hands and started to do a sort of a cappella rendition of “Where did the Party go” and had gotten louder and

nudged Patrick when he got to the chorus.

Patrick smiled wanly and started to sing.....

 

Soon Joe and Patrick were back in the parking lot and their tour bus was just parking.

Joe and Patrick got on quickly.

Patrick went straight to the back, first taking the food from Joe.

While Joe waved to Mack and pointed in the direction that Pete and Andy went before yelling at the crew to have a good time, but be safe.

Joe grabbed a soda- for himself- and a water for Patrick on his way back and found Patrick on the corner of the bed with his head in his hands and the food as far away from him as possible.

Joe shut the door and gently tapped Patrick’s hat with the water bottle before setting it beside him.

Joe climbed on the bed and situated himself before grabbing the bags and the remote.

Joe clicked on the T.V. and unwrapped one of his burritos.

When Patrick still hadn’t moved Joe stretched and poked him with his foot.

Patrick jerked and stood up walked around the room and grabbed the Xbox controller.

Then he crawled on the bed and lay down next to Joe.

Joe, with a mouthful of burrito and half of one in his hand wrapped his free arm around Patrick and pulled him closer.

Swallowing he asked

“What movie we watching Stump?”

and set his food down and grabbed Patrick’s unopened bag and put it in Patrick’s lap and at Patrick’s pained look raised his eyebrow.

Patrick sighed and shuffled through the movies before picking _ **Kill Bill Vol. 1.**_

Joe nodded and took another bite of his first burrito.

Patrick had put the Xbox controller down and opened his bag with shaky hands.

 Joe sighed.

“It’ll be okay man, it’s just some chipotle, just - I don’t know- take it a bite at a time. And like focus on the movie or something.”

Joe said in a rush.

Patrick blinked owlishly and Joe added;

“I mean if that’s what works- I’m sorry Patrick I just don’t know how to help you so just tell me and I will.”

Patrick opened then shut his mouth.

Then clenched his jaw and huffed.

“I just... distraction is good... so yeah I could- I mean that’s a good idea- with the movie and all- this is nice and I.... I just need to like do it, y’know?”

Patrick said and unwrapped his food and dug around for a fork and almost savagely stabbed the rice mixture.

Joe bit back a relieved sigh and nodded.

“Alright man, let’s just watch Uma Thurman kick some ass.”

And that was that.

Patrick moved his food around, swirling his fork a couple times before scooping up the mixture and sticking it in his mouth.

Joe chewed loudly and with his mouth partially open.

At the fight scene between Uma’s character and Lucy Liu’s character and army Patrick has finished a bit more than half of his burrito bowl and his stomach is starting to feel uncomfortably full.

Patrick sets the bowl down and wiggles around, trying to get comfortable.

His jeans feel too tight and he’s pretty sure that the button is going to pop off.

He slides his hand across his ~~concave~~ (protruding) stomach and his nails start to scratch and dig in.

Joe is still engrossed in the fight and doesn’t notice when Patrick’s bony hands sneak under his shirt and his nails dig in and make bright red marks on his porcelain skin.

But then Joe shifts- his leg bumping Patrick and Joe looks over at Patrick’s burrito bowl and nudges it closer to Patrick. Patrick pulls his hands away from his ~~skin~~ (fat) and picks up the bowl again and sticks a forkful into his mouth.

Then another, and another until the movie ends and his bowl is empty.

By the time the credits roll on Patrick and Joe hear the unmistakable noise of a wild Pete Wentz making his way to the back of the bus.

And sure enough the door opens and Pete’s bleach blond head pokes around.

“Hey guys we’re going to be leaving soon.”

and Pete grins widely when he sees the empty bowl on Patrick’s lap.


	7. Chapter 7

Joe quickly got up and grabbed his and Patrick’s garbage and move around Pete an out the door.

Once Joe left Pete jumped on the bed (narrowly missing Patrick) and scooched over to Patrick.

Patrick laughed at his best friend and moved so Pete could lay his head on Patrick’s own shoulder.

“Hey tricky, how ya doing?”

Pete mumbled into Patricks bony shoulder.

Patrick smiled

“I’m good Pete, what about you? Did Andy find a restaurant?”

Patrick carded his right hand through Pete’s hair and moved his left arm so that it wouldn’t go numb under Pete’s body.

Pete hummed his approval of Patrick ministrations.

“I’m okay, and yeah with with the help of that one app thingy. I got a decent veggie burger, so y’know I’m happy and fed.”

Patrick laughed.

“Like a cat!”

Which caused Pete to meow and lick Patrick’s neck.

“Ew, gross man.”

And they both laughed.

“We’ve done worse, Tricky”

Pete chuckled before asking more seriously

“So what movie did you guys watch?”

Patrick glanced up at the now dark T.V. screen.

“Oh Kill Bill” Patrick shrugged with his free shoulder.

“Oh? vol. 1, 2, or both?”

Patrick scratched his head harder.

“You weren’t gone that long, Petey, only vol. 1”

Patrick replied before yawning widely.

Pete pulled away and rubbed his face.

“Hey man, there’s like 5 or so hours until we get to the hotel. Do you want to take a nap now or play halo or something?”

Pete asked.

Patrick nodded.

“Let’s play halo. okay? If I sleep now, I won’t at the hotel and sleep at the hotel will be more comfortable than here."

Patrick stretched and yawned again before grabbing the one discarded controller and tossing it to Pete and moving to look for the second one.

Pete slouched back, adjusting and then flicked on the xbox.

Patrick dug around for the game.

Once he found it he let out a small whoop and gently placed it in.

Once the tray pulled back Patrick clambered onto the bed and sat next to Pete.

Soon both men lost themselves in the game.

But after both died and went to restart Pete looked over at Patrick and opened then shut his mouth before saying,

“You know I love you right?”

Pete asked quickly.

He didn’t look away when Patrick’s head snapped up to look at him.

“Yeah”

Patrick replied cautiously.

“I just like wanted to make sure. Like these past months I - I wasn’t sure. Like.. Patrick you had said.... in the hospital... that you had thought- that like you weren’t

good enough? and I mean if you really don’t want to talk about this like to me or like right now then that’s fine... but I just I wanted you to know that I love you and I

swear to god if you had died I just. I don’t know what I would have done.... I don’t think I would have like- Lived.”

Pete confessed. Patrick then snapped forward and pulled Pete into a strong, tight hug.

“Don’t you dare think like that Pete- think about Bronx- you’re a goddamn father now.... you get that out of your head.. you’re wonderful Pete Wentz, just fucking

wonderful, and yeah you’re an asshole sometimes and a brat almost always but jesus fucking christ I love you man and I want you to promise me that you are not

going to do anything stupid or destructive like that. I don’t care what the reason is. You deserve to live.”

Pete was shaking and Patrick may have been crying as he finished.

“But what about you Trick? I promise that I’m fine. I’m not thinking like that. It was just a thought I had when you were laying in that hospital bed. But I’m good now- but what about you?”

Pete pulled out of the hug, but still stayed close to Patrick, who was now staring at his hands.

“Pete, I’m not going to lie to you. Not anymore. You guys are the best friends I could ever have. That being said sometimes I’m just so jealous of you guys. With your

perfect, slim, hot, attractive bodies, with your flat stomachs and sharp hip bones and how the fans and the critics seem to focus on my body and not my voice or

how I play and the fact that Joe and you can eat whatever you want and still look great and whenever I eat I just look like a fat whale. And yes I know my view is

skewed right now and has been for a long time and that I’m not fat that I’m infact underweight. I was paying attention to Dr. Morrison’s little lessons about body

image, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t- I feel fat and Pete you don’t have to worry about me..... because I’m getting better..... And I want to get better.”

Patrick had moved a little further back from Pete to convey his sincerity.

“Alright Trick. And I’m glad. So fucking glad that you’re getting better.”

Pete smiled before pulling Patrick into a quick hug.

A lump forming in his throat as he felt how bony his best friend was.

Once Pete pulled back Patrick sad back against the back wall and tossed the 1st controller to Pete.

“C’mon we still have like 3 hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is going to be a flash back of sorts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so this kind of is a flashback?, it's dealing with Patrick during the hiatus

It wasn’t like it was hard, the band had just gotten back together.

And tour wasn’t for a few weeks.

They had just been on the radio to announce Fall Out Boy’s return and to burn some old records of theirs, like in their music video

‘My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark’.

And that was good.

It had been the longest they had been together that hadn’t included music, or unfortunately food and eating.

Which had been uncomfortable, but no one really paid attention to what or if Patrick was eating.

So it wasn’t hard at first, this not eating thing.

He had been doing it since the hiatus had started.

And maybe it had even started because of it.

The hiatus starting the not eating thing, not the other way around.

Since no one knew about how Patrick sometimes often didn’t eat.

Panic! hadn’t notice when he was touring with them during Soul Punk.

It was weird, the hiatus leading to this thing Patrick did.

The first month after they had all announced that they were going to be taking a break Patrick had holed up in his Chicago home and hid himself away from the world.

That was where it started.

Patrick hadn’t left his place.

The first week he had eaten almost all the food in his fridge.

Then one night in a fit of emotion he found himself on the floor in front of the T.V. eating his feelings out of tubs of ice cream.

He ate to get away from the feelings of sadness, loneliness, anger, everything.

Then once he hit the bottom of the fourth bucket, the second sad movie and seventh bottle of beer Patrick stopped and stared into nothing while the voices that had

always been in his head- still were- spoke and in a fit of self-hate and discomfort Patrick launched himself upstairs and found himself on the floor of his master

bathroom, on his knees looking into the clear water in the toilet bowl.

And as the voices got louder and crueler, and his self-hatred got stronger than it ever was before, thoughts like _‘this is why the band left you_ ’

and

_‘this is why it wasn’t working’_

and perhaps it was the alcohol he had at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as well as with the ice cream, but Patrick believed it and for the first time in his life he listened to the voices.

He leaned over the toilet and then when nothing came up and the voices screamed Patrick’s hand moved, almost by itself, and soon a finger was poking at the back

of his throat and all of the bad food he had eaten- the ice cream and beer and pizza from dinner- made it’s way into the toilet. That was the first night and it was far from the last.

 

When Patrick woke up the next morning, stuck to the bathroom floor.

He sat there staring at the dirty tiles for a bit before moving quickly, all but running down the stairs in a fit of anger, self-hate, and desperation.

He quickly grabbed garbage bags and cleaned up all the trash of last night (week).

Then he moved to the kitchen and filled 3 bags with ‘tempting’, ‘vile’, ‘fattening’ foods from his fridge, freezer, and cupboards.

Once everything was wrapped away with black plastic he put them by his back door and fell in a heap on the floor.

He had been filled with hate and fueled by self-disgust, but now it had simmered down and he was left with the loneliness of his empty house and loud head.

Patrick stayed there for an unmeasured amount of time, before getting up slowly and almost in a daze moved back upstairs and into the bathroom- the same one as before- that smelled of puke and sweat and desperation.

His mind focused more and Patrick got the cleaning supplies and began to clean the entire room.

Patrick only stopped once every inch of the master bath had been scrubbed, bleached, washed and his hands were rubbed raw and his knees ached and he had a headache from the fumes(or last night’s purge and lack of food today).

Patrick then put away his tools and stripped out of his dirty clothes- not looking in the mirror.

He turned the shower on, twisting the knob all the way, and stepped into the scorching water.

Then, like he had done to the bathroom, Patrick scrubbed and scrubbed until his whole (fat) body was marked red and his mind clear of the thoughts- if only for a short time.

Patrick got out and dried off, tied his towel around his waist, picked up his dirty laundry and made his way to his cluttered room.

Patrick then dumped both his clothes and towel on the dirty floor and climbed into his bed and fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

And when he woke up late that night- early the next morning- he cleaned the rest of his house, first his bedroom and lastly the kitchen, focusing on anything but his hunger, body, or food.

And so after Patrick’s initial breakdown, the monster of self-consciousness and bad body-image got larger and larger.

It wasn’t a simple thing, in that first month after his breakdown Patrick opened the refrigerator, freezer, cupboards many times a day.

And almost every time he closed them empty handed.

He cleaned, a lot, his house was in an immaculate state- the exact opposite of his mind.

Then on the first of January, 2010 when he woke up at 4am (his sleep schedule had become worse that Pete’s) he stared for a bit at the ceiling then got up slowly (he had fainted twice) and at this point Patrick would drink 3 glasses of warm water, then eat a small amount of food.

Sitting on the edge of his bed Patrick saw his Gretsch G5135PS guitar.

The last time he had played Fall Out Boy was still together.

But he did that day, and it changed his bleak outlook.

From then on Patrick’s days consisted of writing music, playing music, recording music, editing the recordings, not eating, and sleeping maybe 3 or 4 hours a night.

During this time he finished almost an entire album.

And by that time he began to go out more and socialize.

He met with different friends in the music industry (not the guys) and he met with Brendon and Spencer.

And the two noticed, not the not eating, but the weight he had lost (Patrick didn’t see it, he was still fat).

And they complimented him, but they never noticed that something was wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

But at the beginning when Fall Out Boy had reunited, after that night on the radio they had all gone out to eat- together as a band- and Patrick had still been feeling

high and fine from the cold night and the fire and the radio interview.

So he hadn’t been thinking or worrying or trying to calm down the voices screaming in his head.

That screaming started when he sat down at the table, next to Andy, across from Pete, and adjacent to Joe.

All of whom were grinning broadly, and laughing at some joke.

Patrick anxiously had grabbed his menu and looked for something safe (he had just gotten his band back, he didn’t want them to leave him again because he was fat).

As he was looking frantically at the menu the conversation around him stopped.

Just as Patrick flipped to the soups and salads (all he had eaten with Panic!) he looked up and saw the guys looking at him.

(How he must have looked- so greedy for food that he couldn’t wait to order!)

“What?”

he asked setting his menu down.

Joe laughed (at him?)

“Dude, you’re spacing out, Pete asked if you’ve been here before?”

Joe then picked up his own menu and Patrick looked at Pete.

“No, uh, I don’t think so.”

Patrick told Pete.

Pete smirked and picked up his own menu,

“Riiiiight.”

Pete drew out before peering intently at his menu.

 

That was the first of many awkward dinners, lunches, and even breakfasts (if the guys knew he was awake-which he almost always was) in the two weeks leading up to tour.

Still he gained 3 pounds..... what felt like 30.

He ate more food in those two weeks than he had eaten in a regular month of the hiatus.

There were some meals that Patrick could lie his way out of, saying that he already ate, but once tour started, and he shared a bus with one of the guys and he was never alone, it was harder.

At first Patrick tried to deal with it logically (but his starving, messed up mind wasn’t very logical), he tried to “just eat” as Joe put it drunkenly one night.

(And that was the last time any of the guys brought it up for a month).

After the tactic of ‘just eat’ failed and Patrick’s anxiety rose with each day performance, and the thoughts grew louder Patrick started getting sloppier.

His excuses got weaker and tempers rose.

And then one night when Patrick’s nerves were shot and it was the last leg of the tour, after a pretty nasty fight he had against Joe and Pete, but the fight had been

building for days, because that’s how long it had been since Patrick had eaten.

Pete had been the first to yell (of course) saying that this thing- and yes they knew there was a thing- this **not-eating thing** that Patrick was doing was bad, it was horrible and

“How can you not see this, Trick?”

and his voice had cracked and

“Why won’t you just talk to us?”

This not talking thing was one of the causes of the hiatus, and why wasn’t he talking now!?

Pete was- instead of bottling it up or putting it down in riddles for Patrick and Joe to put to music.

Joe talked more, instead of numbing the pain with alcohol or weed (not to say he stopped either, just he talked more now) and Andy had too.

Oh Andy- Patrick had felt sick and horrible and disgusting (more so than usual) when Andy had told them all about his depression.

And oh how Patrick wanted to do the same, to tell them, but he was weak and they would make him stop- they were already trying- and he couldn’t(wouldn’t).

So the yelling built and Patrick doesn’t even know what words were thrown at him, or what he spat in return, but once he stormed off and was safely hidden behind

the curtain of his bunk he had cried (like a weakling) and he couldn’t breathe!

And his chest hurt, and his mind was on fire!

And as the thoughts swirled around in his head and he got more desperate he couldn’t BREATHE!

and he felt like he was DYING! AND HE WAS SCARED, HE WAS TERRIFIED!

 

This not eating thing, it was a release, but it also served as something Patrick could control.

He loved music- that was obvious- Patrick loved it so much more that he loved himself, and as much as he loved making it- it wasn’t something he could really control.

This- this not eating thing was simple in all the ways music and the music industry was complicated.

Simple- don’t eat = thinner, better.

Eat= fat, bad, horrible.

It was simple.

This was something that Patrick could control.....

 

and it was also something that was Patrick’s alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Back on the bus, present day**

Andy made his way to the back room and opened the door.

Inside he found both Pete and Patrick sprawled out playing video games.

Pete had his head on Patrick's sunken stomach, and Patrick was too engrossed in the game to be uncomfortable.

Andy stood in the doorway, just taking in the normality of the scene before him.

He stood there for about a minute before Pete noticed him.

Once he did Pete paused the game and Patrick groaned in protest.

Pete sat up and asked

“What’s up, Andy?”

rubbing his eyes.

“We just got off the exit for the hotel and we should be there soon.”

Andy told both men, and as soon as the words left his mouth the bus lurched a bit, turned, and parked.

Pete raised an eyebrow.

“Or, we’re here already.”

Andy chuckled before holding out a hand and pulling Patrick up ~~(too light)~~.

“C’mon grab your stuff, you look like you’re going to fall asleep right here”

Andy joked before pulling Patrick along.

Once they all got checked in and had their room keys the four of them got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 5th floor.

Patrick leaned against the side and rubbed his bloated, distended, fat stomach in discomfort.

Joe, who had passed out on the bus for 4 hours was leaning against the opposite wall, drooling on his shirt and the reflective surface of the elevator.

Andy was staring at Patrick and Pete was checking his phone and yawning.

They all needed sleep, the past week Patrick had been the only one to get a decent sleep, and that was because of the mild sedatives he was given at the hospital.

The three other men had tried to sleep, but their fear and worry over almost losing Patrick kept them from any real sleep, not to mention that they were practically in Patrick’s hospital room 24/7.

The elevator eventually opened and Patrick stumbled out, with Joe behind him.

Andy was a little more slow and nudged Pete, before leaning in to whisper.

They all had their own room, but they were right beside each other.

With Pete in room 532, Joe across the hall in 533, Andy in 534, and finally Patrick in room 535.

(Though they all had a key to Patrick’s room.)

Andy caught up to Patrick (not that it was hard) and tapped him on the shoulder just as Joe dropped his key card and kicked his door.

 

“Trohman, quiet, it’s like 1 am, most people are sleeping” Pete whisper-yelled.

“Hey, Patrick?”

Andy whispered.

Patrick looked up at his friend,

“Yeah?”

he whispered back.

Andy pulled a bottle of Ensure out of his backpack and shook it half-heartedly at Patrick, who scrunched his face up in revolt.

“Patrick. You have to have 2 of these before you go to sleep.”

Andy reminded him and Pete nodded from the doorway of his room.

Patrick sighed.

“But I ate, I did, really, just ask Joe.”

Patrick tried to back up, but he hadn’t unlocked his door yet.

“I know you did Patrick, but you still need to drink these.”

Andy said in a soothing, patient tone.

“But, I.... they’re disgusting, I don’t like them, please Andy, please, I don’t want to.”

Patrick tried but Andy just sighed.

“You have to. If you want to get better, you have to.”

Andy said, but backed off a bit.

“Here, how about this? You go get ready for bed, I’ll come back in 10 minutes and you drink them, then go to bed, okay?”

Patrick nodded quickly and turned, fumbled with the key card, before opening his door and giving Andy and Pete a weak smile, shut it.

Andy turned to his own room and sighed.

Pete nodded sympathetically,

“Get ready for bed Hurley. Do you want me to meet you guys?”

Andy shook his head.

“You look like you’re about to pass out Wentz, get some sleep, I got Patrick.”

 

Meanwhile Patrick was in his own room and was freaking out.

He paced back and forth between the queen sized bed, the window, and the bathroom door.

_‘He had eaten, god damnit! It wasn’t fair, did they know how many calories were in the food he ate for dinner? Too many, enough that he shouldn’t have to drink the Ensure. It wasn’t fair!’_

Patrick wailed internally before stopping, sinking onto the bed and sighing in defeat.

 _‘He wanted to get better, didn’t he? ~~Yes, he did NO NO NO! NO YOU DON’T YOU FAT UGLY MISERABLE ASSHOLE~~_ ’

Patrick reasoned, trying to ignore the screaming voices in his own head.

Biting his lip Patrick got ready for bed.

Changing clothes (not looking in the mirror, at his body), brushing his teeth ~~‘look at you’re fat face’~~ , washing his ~~fat~~ face before turning over the sheets and comforter and arranging the pillows.

When he finally had the pillows where he wanted he heard the door click and Andy walked in.

Andy was also dressed in pj pants and a shirt- which Patrick knew he only did because he had walked out into the hall- and was carrying his backpack.

He smiled at Patrick and sat on the furthest edge of the bed.

Patrick, in turn, moved so that he was settled in and leaning back on the pillows.

“Hey” Patrick greeted and Andy mimicked it before opening his backpack and pulling out 2 Ensures, both chocolate.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Patrick said and held out his hand for the first Ensure.

Andy nodded and passed him the bottle

“It’s okay man”

Patrick cracked the lid and grimaced, before bringing the open bottle to his lips.

Andy pointedly didn’t look at Patrick as he drank.

Instead he stared at a small stain on the carpet and drummed out “Uma Thurman” on his thighs.

Halfway through the first bottle Patrick’s stomach started to feel full and uncomfortable.

He paused in his drinking.

“Uh, Andy?”

He asked in a shy, quiet voice.

Andy’s head turned and he raised his eyebrow in question.

“Um, could you, I mean do you think you could, like distract me? Like talk or I don’t know just.... get my mind away from this?”

Patrick asked staring not at Andy but at his knobbly knees.

Andy smiled though, and said

“Sure man, um okay so, I’m thinking that for the next video we should like incorporate something to do with like kids or like, you know how we did the teenager and then like the young ballerina......”

And with Andy distracting him Patrick finished the first and was halfway through the second when Andy trailed off and was thinking of something else to talk about- it was late and he was tired- Patrick though cut in

“Hey Andy? Like how are you doing? I mean the past week has really been centered around me, but like how are you, I know- now- I now realize that what I’ve been doing this.... this- not-eating thing has affected you guys too, so how are you doing?”

Patrick asked before taking another sip of Ensure.

Andy didn’t answer for a beat, but then said in a low voice.

“I’m good. I mean I was so scared of losing you, the band, everything again. And I guess I still am. I mean Patrick you’re not better yet. You are getting there, but

even tonight, when you were panicking about dinner- yes we noticed- and just now when you tried to get out of your nightly Ensure, Patrick when you collapsed at

the show, I thought you were dead. Pete, Joe, and Dirty had to tell me at least a hundred times that you still had a pulse and were breathing before the EMT’s got

there. And you were in a coma, did you know that there was only a 9% chance that you would wake up without any brain damage after the first 24 hours? You were in

a coma for almost 3 days. I thought that we were going to lose you. I had thought were going to lose you way before that too. I thought you were unhappy with the

band, with me, with the guys. You weren’t talking, and we noticed- we should have said something sooner but we notice the not eating thing. We should have done

something sooner.”

Andy’s voice cracked just as Patrick finished his last Ensure.

Patrick placed the empty bottles on the bedside table and crawled over to Andy and wrapped him up in a hug.

Andy was crying now and he hugged Patrick back.

They stayed like that for a while, both whispering apologizes into the other’s ears.

Somehow they ended up lying down and Patrick said softly after they had both stopped crying

“I don’t think it would have worked. If you guys had said something or done something earlier. I wasn’t ready to recover, you heard what Dr. Morrison said, in order to recover I had to want to. And now I do. I’m not going anywhere Andy, I’m not leaving you, or Pete, or Joe, or the band. I’m going to be all right.”

Patrick promised and fell asleep with Andy sprawled out next to him.

 ****  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a small chapter, after all i do have schoolwork.

When morning came and their tour manager, Kevin, knocked on door 535 and opened it with his key card to wake up Patrick he opened the door to find both Patrick and Andy fast asleep.

Which was strange; in the sense that Andy usually was up by now and halfway through his morning run, if not done.

Also in the sense that both men had their own room and if anyone was to sneak into Patrick’s bed it was Pete, not Andy, but Kevin didn't care.

Fall Out Boy had an interview in 2 hours and it was Kevin’s job to make sure _ALL_ members were ready.

Two down, two to go.

So Kevin turned on all the lights, walked over and opened the blinds and shouted

“ **GOOD MORNING STAR SHINE, THE WORLD SAYS HELLO**!”

then he quickly ducked out of the way of the pillow projectiles, and told Andy and Patrick that they had an interview and to get the fuck up, before leaving the room.

Once the hotel door closed and Kevin left, Patrick rolled over and came face to face with a sleepy, grumpy Andy.

“Hi”

Patrick whispered.

“Morning”

Andy replied in a normal voice.

“Did you sleep well?”

Andy asked as he sat up and stretched.

Patrick nodded, then said

“Yep”

since Andy was turned away from him.

Patrick slowly sat up as well - he still got dizzy, not as much, but still- and stood then walked over to his bag.

Andy stood and slowly walked to the door, but then he stopped and turned around.

“Patrick?”

he asked and Patrick made a noise as he looked for a shirt.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Andy continued.

Patrick humphed in triumph as he found the shirt he was looking for.

“Yeah”

he said, distracted

“I mean I’m getting there."

Andy shook his head.

“I meant like today, with the interview in a couple hours and you still need to eat.”

As soon as the final words were out Patrick’s face closed off.

“Yeah, um just let me get a shower.”

Patrick took his shirt, pants, and underwear and tried to move past Andy to the bathroom, but Andy just pulled Patrick into a hug and whispered

“Don’t lie, Stump.”

Patrick took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Andy’s slim frame.

“I just need, I don’t want to eat, not when I’ll have to talk in front of some camera’s later, and I don’t want our fans to see me like this... What do the fans think? What was the story, about when I was in the hospital and how I fainted on stage?”

Patrick asked Andy, since he never had been told what they told the fans.

And he hadn't been allowed or able to check Twitter. The only outside contact he had had was the phone calls with his mom.

Andy pulled away and looked Patrick in the eye.

“Take a shower and meet me and the guys downstairs, okay? We’ll explain.”

And Patrick nodded and gave Andy what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

And it must have been because Andy smiled back and left Patrick alone so he could get his own shower.

Once the door shut Patrick went into the bathroom and stripped out of his pj's.

Carefully, without looking in the mirror, Patrick took a piss then turned the valve in the shower and waited until the water became almost scolding hot, focusing on

the tiny crack behind the toilet and not his ~~fat, ugly, disgusting~~ body.

Once the water was the right temperature Patrick stepped under the spray and quickly, not focusing, washed the hospital and bus smells off his ~~soft, pudgy~~ skin with

the hotel’s little body wash before scrubbing his hair with the hotel’s shampoo and conditioner.

Patrick stayed under the hot water for another minute or two.

His mind spinning circles around the fact that he was going to have to eat breakfast, and why did that scare him so much?, and then the fans and what they must

think of him ( ~~weak, fat, disgusting, vile~~ ).

Then he shook the thoughts and his head and turned off the water, then stepped out, dried off, dressed, packed his dirty laundry, grabbed his wallet and key

card and stepped into the hallway.

 ****  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Patrick made his way to the lobby slowly, thinking about breakfast, the interview, his promise to Andy (and Joe and Pete).

He didn’t want to eat breakfast, and he always was uncomfortable with interviews, and his promise- how he said last night as Andy and he had cried and comforted each other that he wanted to recover and that he wasn’t going anywhere--- well that wasn’t 100% true.

He never wanted to leave the guys or the band ever again, but recover?- that was a different story.

He still felt and saw himself as fat, and he still wasn’t hungry at all, and here he was sweating anxiously just thinking of eating breakfast.

But Patrick now knew just how bad of an effect this not-eating had on the band (not the effects it had on him).

He saw how badly his selfish gluttony affected Joe- Joe the one who had given his life a purpose all those years ago, who had noticed him- insignificant him- and saw talent. Joe who had set him on this path, this wonderful music filled path.

Really Patrick had Joe to thank, because without Joe, who brought Pete, and then Andy into his life he would have offed himself at 21.

He saw how much his unworthiness had impaired Pete- Pete who had a hard enough life without Patrick and his problems.

Pete, who was his best friend and worst enemy.

Pete who made him feel angry and murderous sometimes, or worthy and special, but always jealous and ugly (have you seen his abs!?).

Pete who had distracted and told Patrick it was fine as he got this LARGE!

But really Patrick couldn’t be mad at Pete- it was Patrick’s own fault that he had gotten this fat.

And then their was Andy, who was the sweetest man that Patrick had ever met- unless you got on his bad side; then you got the animal.

And yeah Patrick had grudgingly accepted that all of his friends were so much thinner, and much more attractive that Patrick.

So he had a realization of sorts.... he owed them; ~~if not himself~~ , to continue this-- this diet-- this weight loss.

But he had to do it another, more careful way. He needed to do it without worrying his band- his friends- and without ending up in the hospital again.

He needed a plan......

 

 

Pete was fidgeting at the small table in the room off of the hotel lobby.

Joe was on his left and Andy on his right.

Across from Pete was an empty chair- where Patrick was meant to be.

Pete’s leg bounced up and down until Joe place a hand on his knee and said

“Stop it, he’ll be down soon- eat your donut.”

Then returned to his own coffee.

Pete made a face but took a bite out of his chocolate donut.

Andy continued to eat his oatmeal, but gave Pete a reassuring smile.

Then Patrick appeared and sat down.

He gave the three of them a small, shy smile.

“Morning” Joe said.

“Hey” Patrick mumbled- eyes on their food.

Pete, Joe, and Andy exchanged a look before Pete stood up and walked around to Patrick and ~~easily~~ pulled him up.

“C’mon dude, let’s get you some breakfast.”

Pete said before dragging Patrick over to the breakfast buffet. Patrick- with shaky hands- picked up a plated and looked around.

( ~~everyone was watching him, judging him, thinking “look at that fat fuck, getting more food, fat, fat, fat.”)~~

Pete had to nudge him forward.

Patrick looked at the pancakes, bagels, donuts, eggs, bacon.....

~~‘so much, too much’~~ the voices told him.

He tried to back up; away from the ~~bad, bad~~ food.

But Pete was right behind him and Pete whispered

“You need 3 Starches, 1 Fruit, 1 Milk, 2 Proteins, and 2 Fats for breakfast okay? So how about we get you some toast with peanut butter, some juice, and a glass of milk, is that okay, maybe some eggs too- that would fill everything in.”

Patrick was shaking and he looked up at Pete in confusion.

“I researched nutrition and eating disorders and looked over your meal plan early this morning when I couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

Pete explained- answering Patrick’s unasked question.

Patrick winced slightly as the voices screeched

_“why do you think he couldn’t sleep!? He was worried about you, fat ass! Look at that you ruin everything!”_

and Patrick quickly nodded and with Pete help he grabbed his breakfast.

~~“Too much, too much”.~~

He got 3 slices of wheat toast (that Pete smothered with peanut butter), a glass of orange juice (“Vitamin C, Trick!”), and another glass of 2% milk.

Then he and Pete went back to the table.

Patrick stared straight ahead - ~~not at the people who were judging him~~.

Pete set down his drinks, and skipped ( **SKIPPED** ) to his seat, sat down, took a big bite out of his donut, grinning at Patrick.

Patrick set his plate down and tried to give him a smile back, but it ended up being a grimace.

Patrick carefully picked up a slice of toast, took a bite, placed it back down, chewed, chewed some more, swallowed, and then took a tiny sip of juice.

He repeated this, alternating between juice and milk, as Pete and Joe amicably argued about what the band's next single should be with Andy putting in his opinion at times.

When Patrick was down to the last slice of toast, with all the juice gone and half of the milk left, and his stomach felt like it was going to burst he asked

“So, what was the story, about when I was in the hospital and how I fainted on stage?”

**  
**Pete looked down at his shoes and Joe took a sip of his coffee.

Andy was the one who looked over at Patrick and answered him.

“We told them the truth- or well part of it at least. We said you were sick- we said you were dehydrated, which is true, and that you caught an infection, which isn’t true. Pete didn’t want anyone- he didn’t think you would want anyone to know the real reason. We figured, once you got better you could decide if you wanted to tell the fans and everyone.”

Patrick, who had dutifully been nibbling his way through the final slice of toast hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, thanks guys, I... I’m not sure if I do want to tell people.... like definitely not yet.”

Pete, Joe and Andy all grinned and Patrick smiled as he finished his toast and the milk.

(the voices screaming in his head)

~~smile, smile, everything's fine~~


	13. Chapter 13

The interview wasn’t that bad- in fact it was fun.

The interviewer was a young woman- maybe 25- who was a fan, which was nice.

She asked a single question to them about Patrick’s health and time in the hospital- to which Patrick answered that he was recovering.

She smiled in an understanding way and moved on to questions about new music, new videos, and what they were going to be doing after tour.

She asked both new and old questions.

She laughed sincerely at their stupid jokes.

And when the camera broke and the crew was getting a new one she struck up a friendly debate with Andy and Joe about which shampoo was better- Pantene or Dove- of all things.

And once the new camera was set up she smoothly continued the interview.

An hour later they were done and Patrick wasn’t feeling anxious or uncomfortable like he usually was after an interview.

He smiled and actually offered to take a picture with her.

Patrick's mood stayed high all throughout soundcheck, even when one of the guitar techs messed up.

After soundcheck they had 2 hours before the show and his mood wavered then.

Because then Pete pulled him to the catering tent and helped him pick out food for a snack.

Dinner would be after the show and the meet and greet.

Pete talked about anything and everything as he chewed on an apple.

Patrick dutifully- mechanically\- ate his bowl of cereal and nuts, nodding and humming in response to Pete when necessary. 

With 75 minutes left before the show Patrick was done and Pete had eaten down to the core of his apple.

Patrick, who now wasn’t feeling good at all quickly got up, threw away his trash and made his way to the nearest backstage restroom.

He was only slightly aware that Pete was following him and worryingly asking him where he was going and what was wrong.

Patrick stumbled into one of the stalls and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.

He was shaking and in a blurry fit of desperation he tried to bring his hand up to stick his fingers down his throat and bring up the **BAD, BAD** food that he had eaten.

But Pete slapped his shaking hand away and pulled Patrick back off his knees and into Pete’s arms and on his lap.

Patrick realized he was crying when he felt Pete wipe the tears away.

It was only his 2nd day out of the hospital.

And yes, Patrick had been listening to Dr. Morrison when she warned him and the guys about relapses.

_(and yeah, Patrick knew that his brain was messed up- he had told Pete this before on the bus. And he knew that even thinking about finding a ‘better’ way to keep losing weight-- he didn’t really have any to lose-- was a relapse- but he was confused and angry!)_

But this relapse of sorts was worse, because it was with Pete, who Patrick didn’t want to see him (any of the guys) when he was at his worst even if he had seen Pete at his worst many times before.

Patrick must have zoned out while thinking these thoughts, but as he came back he realized he was still crying- but quieter now- and that Pete was whispering things in his ear.

Things like:

“You’re golden Trick” ,

“I don’t know why you do this to yourself”, 

and

“You’re okay, it’s going to get better” **.**


	14. Chapter 14

After Patrick had calmed down, Pete was still whispering soothing words to him.

Patrick moved out of Pete’s arms and off his lap.

Patrick quickly wiped his tear-stained cheeks and looked down at his feet- and not his best friend.

“Trick?” said best friend asked.

“How’re you doing?”

Pete’s voice was cautious and he hadn’t moved closer to Patrick, but Patrick knew he wanted to.

Patrick frowned, and accessed himself.

“I don’t feel nauseous anymore....”

Patrick told Pete.

“...and the voices are quiet....”

Pete let out a relieved sigh.

If anyone knew what screaming inner voices was like, it was Pete.

“Yeah? Do you think you could stand?” Pete asked and Patrick could hear the unspoken question ‘Do you think you can perform?’ so he answered truthfully to both. “Yeah”

When they emerged from the bathroom and made their way to their dressing room- hearing the opening band already playing- they were met by a frantic Joe and an anxious Andy.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” Joe yelled, hysterically “We go on in like 10 minutes, we’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Patrick shrank back into himself and quickly made his way into the room and changed in the closet- so no one could see him.

Pete whacked Joe on the head and whispered what happened.

Joe’s eyes widened and he whispered back

“shit, I’m sorry”.

Pete nodded and took off his shirt.

As Joe told Andy what Pete had told him Pete changed into his ‘show clothes’.

Patrick came out shortly after Pete had finished redressing.

“Patrick, dude, I’m sorry for yelling man, it’s just, it’s the end of tour, plus our first show back, but whatever- I’m sorry Patrick.”

Joe apologized.

Patrick smiled and hugged his friend.

Andy and Pete were talking as Pete tried to fix his hair in the mirror, but Patrick just snuggled (manly snuggles) with Joe as they waited for Kevin- or one of the techs- to get them.

****  
  


The show was _**AMAZING!**_

All four of them were on fire!

The crowd was super energetic and Patrick saw a lot of signs saying _‘Get Better Soon_ ’ and the like.

It was the last bit of the tour, but to Patrick it felt like one of the very first shows.

He felt better than he had in ages.

He was flying.

On cloud 9.

He felt fantastic.

As the four of them took a bow and the show ended Patrick was almost afraid his smile would break his face.

But as he looked at his bandmates faces he saw the same manic grin on all of theirs.

The meet and greet went fast.

Snap a picture here, sign something there.

Patrick always loved talking to fans, it was great that someone cared, that people liked him ~~(because he certainly didn’t)~~.

All too soon they had to say their final goodbyes and get back to the bus.  

Their next show was in Indianapolis, which was only about 2 hours away so they were staying the night in the same hotel and would leave around 1 tomorrow afternoon.

Andy had turned on the front lounge TV.

What came on was a nature documentary and Andy seemed content to watch it; falling back on the couch and throwing the remote across the cushions.

Pete laughed and headed into the bathroom.

Joe moved back towards the bunks.

Which left Patrick, who sat next to Andy and watched the _‘majestic beauty of the northern squirrel’_ or something.

A short drive later and they were back at the hotel.

Patrick went up to his room and took a quick shower.

When he was done he wrapped a towel around himself and went out into his room to find clothes.

But to his surprise Joe, Pete, and Andy were all in his room, on his bed, with food- room service.

The 3 were watching Tosh.0, but looked up when he closed the bathroom door.

Pete’s mouth fell open- and ew Patrick could see his half chewed food.

Joe and Andy’s expressions weren’t much better.

They were all staring at him, and Patrick was like a deer stuck in the headlights.

He was about to turn around and lock himself in the bathroom- ~~yes he knew he looked disgusting, thanks guys~~ \- when Joe snapped out of his stare and said

“Hey man, we got room service um get dressed and join us?”  

and Andy quickly threw Patrick’s pj’s from last night at him.

Pete closed his mouth and gave Patrick a small smile.

Patrick nodded and went into the bathroom.

“I- fuck- he’s still so fucking skinny” Joe said in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, I mean, I know recovery takes time, but....” Pete shrugged, looking lost.

“But he’s still skin and bones.” Andy finished before taking a bite out of his tofu burger.

 

 

Meanwhile Patrick quickly changed - ~~don't look, don’t look~~ \- and when he was done he stupidly looked in the mirror.

Except this time he didn’t see a fat, blubbering, whale of a person.

No he saw himself; with sunken eyes hiding behind dark rings of sleepless nights, with too sharp cheekbones and jawline.

With thin, frail, dry hair and pale, sickly, dry skin.

He saw his collarbone poking out from under his shirt.

He saw the two twigs where his arms should be.

And when he raised his shirt he could see his entire rib cage.

He looked down and saw that he was almost swimming in his pants, and that his feet looked skeletal and were bruised.

He examined his hands and saw sticks with veins and skin and blue fingernails.

He looked back at his face in the mirror and stared into his eyes and saw the **monsters in his head.**

****  
  



	15. Chapter 15

As Patrick stared into the bathroom mirror he knew that this was what they saw, what everyone saw, that this was the truth, and whatever he saw was wrong and just bad.

Patrick let his shirt fall down again and he picked up the towel from the floor, and put it on the sink.

Then he went back out and joined his friends on his bed.

“So... which is mine?”

Patrick asked and motioned to the various plates on the table in the corner.

“Well we got a variety for you to choose from monsieur”

Pete said in a horrible french accent but didn’t move from his spot on Patrick’s bed.

Joe however did, setting his plate on the side table and rolling over Pete’s legs- who shouted at him.

Once Joe got to the edge of the bed he gestured Patrick over and pointed at each covered dish.

“So we got- all vegetarian of course- mac’n’cheese, fruit salad _(yummy yummy)_ , something called wheat berry salad, pizza- with veggies- french fries, and veggie burgers.”

Patrick looked at Joe, then the plates, then Andy and Pete.

“Um, okay, how about I take some mac’n’cheese, fruit salad, and a veggie burger.”

Patrick stated/asked and looked at Joe for reassurance that he was following his meal plan.

Joe’s face was lit up in a smile so Patrick figured he was good.

Once the Joe helped him with portions Patrick climbed back on the bed and lay down on his stomach in front of Andy and focused on the TV.

As he had earlier that day- that week really- Patrick mechanically stabbed his fork into the mac’n’cheese, or fruit salad, and picked up the burger and took a small bite.

He kept his eyes mostly on the show, laughing at times.

And after the credits came on for the 2nd time Patrick realized that he was finished.

And as he pushed his empty plate away he noticed that yes his stomach ached, but it wasn’t that bad, and he didn’t feel that nauseous.

 

Patrick looked back and saw that Andy was still leaning against the headrest, but now his eyes were closed- but Patrick knew he wasn’t sleeping, maybe meditating.

Joe however was sleeping, snoring too.

Pete....

Patrick couldn’t see Pete, and for a second he panicked until he heard the toilet flush.

Patrick got up, grabbed his plate and everyone elses- he knew they had finished long before him- and set them on the trolley cart.

Patrick then yawned, closed his eyes and and stretched- reaching for the stars.

When he finished and opened his eyes Pete was standing in front of him with a lazy smile.

“Hey ho Patrick-o”

Pete said softly before falling onto the hotel bed, opening his arms in invitation.

Patrick laughed but lay down next to his best friend and let him cuddle into his ~~(bony, thin, sharp)~~ side.

After a couple moments, when Patrick relaxed more, and his mind wasn’t screaming about how close Pete was Patrick felt his friends hand move across his ~~(fat, disgusting)~~ stomach.

And all of the ease and comfort disappeared and his entire body tensed up.

Pete- who was still attached to half of him- must have felt it, because the hand stopped.

It was still on Patrick’s stomach- right above his belly button, over his shirt- but it wasn’t rubbing in ~~(to the fat, the malleable fat)~~.

“Patrick?”

Pete whispered, his mouth close to Patrick’s left ear.

Patrick swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah Pete?”

he whispered back, not turning, just staring at the textured white ceiling.

“Is this okay? I know that when Bronx has a tummy ache me rubbing circles helps...”

Pete whispered tentatively.

Some of Patrick’s tension eased and he even laughed softly.

“Did you just say tummy ache?”

He chuckled and felt Pete’s grin against his shoulder before Pete lifted his face up to reply.

“Obviously... so is this okay?”

Pete asked and experimentally rubbed in small circles.

Patrick took a deep breath but nodded.

Pete set his head back down on Patrick’s ( ~~angular, hard, pointy)~~ shoulder and hummed happily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

****  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus, sorry for not updating, but it was Spring break and I was sick, like 'let's not get out of bed sick' but also 'your nose is now Niagara falls, and your head is filled with angry bees sick'   
> this is kinda a filler chapter, so sorry that it's so short.  
> anyway, here's wonderwall

It got, well not easier, but better- more routine after that.

Patrick started feeling better (physically) than he had in awhile.

He obediently ate every meal and didn't’ throw up.

Oh he had the urgh, but the guys always stopped and distracted him.

He spent his free time mostly with Andy.

(Andy and Patrick bus, Pete and Joe bus).

Andy and he would either talk, play video games, or sit together quietly- with Andy reading and Patrick working on something on his laptop.

And so it went.

He was getting better.

He was still too thin **~~FAT FAT FAT.~~**

But his body was slowly rebuilding itself-

his skin became less dry and sickly yellow,

his hair was less brittle and coarse,

his muscles and bones slowly stopped aching day and night.

And before they knew it, it was the end of the tour.

They could taste Chicago from here.

But even after weeks of eating, or maybe because of it, Patrick’s mind tore itself apart.

With every bite he took his mind screamed and thrashed.

But every reassuring, pleased, or relieved smile that Pete, Andy, Joe, Kevin, hell even the techs gave him when he ate that disgusting food had him feeling proud of his ‘recovery’.

It was confusing and Patrick gave himself headaches with it.

He often wondered if this was what Pete’s mind was like- back then, if this was what it felt like on that horrible night at Best Buy.

Not that he would ever ask.

It was an unspoken thing between the band.

That they didn’t talk about the past- be it Pete’s suicide attempt, Andy’s depression, Joe’s then drug of choice, or Patrick’s temper.

They had all sorted enough of it out before they began recording _Save Rock and Roll_.

And if Patrick asked....

then what would happen?

Pete would resemble a kicked, abandoned puppy.

And Pete was finally happy- at least it seemed like that to Patrick- and Patrick wasn’t going to ruin his best friends life any more than he already had.

So Patrick ate, and didn’t talk about the screaming monster in his head, he played and sung his heart out, laughed at stupid things with his friends, and maybe cried himself to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

It happened at the last show.

Or rather after the last show of the tour.

It was a comment from a “fan” that did Patrick in.

But- to be honest- it was a long time coming.

Patrick hadn’t really ever gotten into the _‘mindset’_ of ‘ _recovery_ ’.

And besides they were all tired.

So when Pete fell asleep one night after a show, or Joe was distracted, or Andy was too engrossed in a book Patrick wouldn’t eat.

Or he would hide food to make it look like he had eaten.

It wasn’t every meal, or even every day, but it helped calm his mind.

But it was the last show.

After, during the part where they met fans, took pictures and signed shit.

It was almost the end.

Soon Patrick could escape the searching eyes and the judgmental faces.

In another 3 hours the four of them would be back in Chicago.

Patrick could admit that he felt uncomfortable, even before the comment.

He had had to rush to eat his snack before the show and even with him cutting down on his ‘dancing’ his stomach was jumbled and nauseous.

So he was off to the side, away from the guys, when a teenage boy got in close and spat quietly in Patrick’s ear

“Congratulations on the weight loss, too bad you’re gaining it all back, guess you’re going to be ‘ **Fatrick** ’ again.”

and then he left, disappearing into the crowd.

Patrick was frozen.

“Hey Pat! We’re getting ready to go! Come on!”

someone yelled.

So Patrick moved to the bus, but slowly, like he was stuck in jelly.

The voices- that were never really silent- were screaming louder and louder and louder.

By the time Patrick got back to the bus his head was a war zone.

He was a bit surprised that he had gotten back first; or maybe Patrick was just too engrossed in his own head to notice anyone.

He made a beeline to the bus bathroom.

Once inside he locked the door and turned to look in the mirror.

(mistake)

The first thing he saw was himself.

Thin, scaringly thin, with hollow cheeks  and sunken eyes.

But as the stranger’s words rang through his head, echoing and harmonizing with the voices in his head, Patrick’s view shifted.

Where there was really stick thin arms, thigh gap, and bony bird legs Patrick saw plump, lumpy, pudgy rolls of fatty, fleshy, meaty thighs and calves, and a distended, overblown stomach.

His hands came up and pinched and pulled.

Harder and harder and harder until his fingernails actually dug in and broke his still dry, healing, malnourished skin.

Patrick gasped and let go.

Not because of the pain-

well that was part of it-

but because the voices in his head had stopped.

Instead of the vile voices yelling at him, his rational mind was saying **‘blood, injured’**.

And so quickly, without really thinking, Patrick opened the drawers and found a pair of small cuticle scissors.

Patrick opened them as wide as he could and then without pause dragged them across his stomach.

From his protruding left hip bone to his belly button.

He hissed, but he didn’t stop.

Again and again.

Deeper and deeper.

Harder and harder.

For a total of 6 cuts.

Oh it hurt but it was worth it.                                       


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short update chapter thingy

Patrick eventually came back to the present- out of his head- and promptly panicked.

There was a lot of blood.

He felt lightheaded _but when wasn’t he?_

Patrick quickly washed his cuts ( ~~pain~~ ) and the sink and the floor.

Flushing the used pieces of toilet paper away **(no one can know)**.

Once there were no more blood splots Patrick focused on the 6 cuts.

_‘They’re ugly and disgusting’_ Patrick thought _‘but so am I’_.

All but one had clotted.

That one was slowly bleeding, but it looked like it would stop soon.

Patrick opened the drawers again, placed the scissors inside before snatching them back and pocketing them.

He then rummaged through the drawers and found bandages.

Carefully Patrick bandaged his side and just as he pulled his black shirt back down there was a knock on the bathroom door.

Patrick held his breath.

“Patrick? You in there? I need to pee man!”

Pete yelled and banged on the door again.

“Hang on”

Patrick yelled back.

Quickly he checked to see if there was any evidence of what he had done.

No.

Then he unlocked and opened the door.

And was met with Pete’s grinning face.

Patrick mumbled an apology and ducked around Pete.

As he made his way to the bunks he heard the bathroom lock.

He also noticed that the bus was moving, heading home.

Patrick went to his bunk and was going to lie down, but decided to just hide the scissors and quickly change clothes.

He then moved to the front of the bus, where he found Joe, Andy, and Kevin.

“Hey dude, we’re about 2 hours away from home”

Joe told him.

Patrick nodded and sat down next to Andy, lost in his own head.

****  
  



	19. Chapter 19

Patrick was actually relieved when no one tried to make conversation.

Maybe they were all too tired- ~~or maybe they didn’t care about him anymore~~.

By the time the bus made it to Chicago- to home- Patrick’s butt was numb.

His mind was numb.

Patrick’s house was the first stop, so he and Joe got out - Joe helping to unload and carry his music gear.

It was dark and Patrick fumbled to unlock his front door.

Once they had gotten everything inside- just in the living room-

Joe, to Patrick’s shock, grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug.

Patrick held in the hiss when Joe brushed against his wounds.

While holding tight to Patrick Joe whispered

“Don’t do something stupid Stump, and if you need me or Pete or Andy all you have to do is call. Seriously.”

Patrick nodded and whispered

“I know.”

he didn’t promise.

Because he had already broken any and all promises he could have made.

With a final squeeze Joe said goodbye and left.

Patrick stayed by the window until the bus pulled away.

Then he trudged upstairs, not bothering to unpack.

Patrick made his way to the master bath and turned on the shower.

On hot- burning, melt your face off hot- and stepped in.

He scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed.

Until his skin was red and raw, his cuts were bleeding and his brain wasn’t screaming at his body, at him.

Patrick stood under the spray until the water ran cold.

Shivering he got out and dried off.

He made his way to his bedroom, leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.

Still shivering Patrick changed into a sweatshirt he might have stolen from Joe a few years ago and flannel pajama pants.

He debated putting on a pair of fuzzy socks, but knew he wouldn’t sleep with them on.

Then Patrick crawled into his bed, wrapped himself in all the blankets and lay there.

Staring at the ceiling.

He just felt so drained.

He was emotionally and physically tired.

But he could fall asleep.

Absently Patrick remembered that he hadn’t redressed his cuts, but found that he didn't really care.

His right hand snaked down and across his ~~fat~~ stomach to the cuts.

Without his knowledge, or at least his care his fingers picked at the wounds.

Pain filled Patrick’s head and body and it was enough to send him into a light and troubled sleep.

 

****  
  



	20. Chapter 20

When Patrick woke up the sun was setting again.

He rolled over and reached for his phone, but it wasn't there.

He remembered that it was still in his bag, downstairs.

So Patrick got out of his bed, wincing at the pain in his side, and shivering wrapped his comforter around himself.

He made his way downstairs, lightheaded.

On the stairs Patrick decided that he would bandage his side and drink some water after he found his phone.

Finally downstairs, he sat on the floor by the front door, pulled his comforter tight and rummaged through his bag.

He found his phone quickly and unlocked it.

7 missed calls

28 text messages

4 voicemails

He opened his call log and saw that 4 missed calls were from Pete, 1 from Joe, 1 from Andy, and 1 surprisingly from his mom.

Patrick dialed his voicemail and put in his passcode.

The first was from Pete:

“Morning ‘Trick! Just calling to say hi, and to remind you to eat breakfast and lunch and a snack and that we’re going out to dinner with your mom! Did you get my messages?”

Patrick checked the time 5:43 pm.

He moved on to the next message, Andy:

“Patrick? Listen I know Pete has been spamming your phone but remember dinner tonight at 6:30, okay? We’re picking you up at 6:15.”

Joe’s message was similar.

The last message was from his mom:

“Pat, honey, why didn't you call? Oh honey, I would have gotten the first plane out. Your brother would have understood why I had left before his violin recital. Oh my baby, I’ll see you at dinner okay? I love you!”

Patrick deleted every voicemail.

And he was ~~n't~~ crying.

He checked his texts.

2 from Andy

4 from Joe

10 from Pete

1 from his brother Kevin

1 from his sister Megan

The one’s from Pete, Andy, and Joe were reminders to eat breakfast, lunch, snack, or about dinner.

The one from Megan read:

“I love you! If you need to talk I’m always here for you!”

Kevin’s was similar except that he started his with

“I can’t believe this actually happened!”

before continuing that he loved Patrick, and was always there if he needed someone.

Patrick glanced again at the time 5:49 and plugged his phone in, trudged back upstairs to the bathroom, bandaged his side, tried to fix his hair, drank some water, and got dressed in black skinny jeans ~~(that were baggy)~~ , a black long sleeve shirt, a red **MCR** t-shirt, and a black button up- unbuttoned, then put on 2 pairs of socks, his black boots and waited on the bottom step for his friends. 

Wondering how he was going to survive dinner.

How he was supposed to face his mom.

 

****  
  



	21. Chapter 21

Patrick was picking at his fingernails waiting.

He was so focused on his fingers’ imperfections that he jumped at the knock on his door.

Patrick stood (too quickly) and got dizzy and stumbled to the door.

Once his head cleared he opened the door and saw Andy.

Andy had a duffle bag and a backpack.

“You ready for dinner?”

he asked Patrick.

Patrick nodded dumbly and asked

“what’s with the bags?”

but moved aside to let Andy in his home.

“I’m staying with you for the next couple of days, remember? we agreed at the hospital?”

Andy reminded Patrick and set his bags down next to Patrick’s unpacked stuff.

“Ready?” Andy asked again.

Patrick nodded again and grabbing his wallet, keys, and phone led Andy out, then locked his door.

He followed Andy to the car.

As Andy drove to the restaurant Patrick was uncharacteristically silent.

He hadn’t turned on the radio and sang along, he just looked out the passenger side window.

And though he couldn’t see it Patrick knew that Andy was giving him side eye glances.

Andy opened and shut his mouth at least 10 times, but never said anything to Patrick.

Quickly they arrived at the restaurant.

Patrick was surprised at the classiness of it.

His door was opened for him and Andy gave his keys to the valet.

“I feel very underdressed”

Patrick whispered to Andy as they walked in.

“You’re fine”

Andy assured him, and Patrick noticed that Andy was also wearing black jeans (though his fit him better than Patrick’s) and a button up- though his was buttoned, but Patrick could still see a ratty old tee underneath.

Andy was also wearing his beat up converse.

 

The two made their way to the hostess’ desk.

“Two for the Wentz party”

Andy told the young blonde- Miranda.

Who smiled and led them to a round table in the backroom.

Pete, Joe, and Patricia were already there with an opened bottle of red wine.

Andy sat by Patricia and Patrick sat between Joe and Andy.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu, but can I get the two of you something to drink?”

Miranda asked.

Andy ordered first

“I’ll take an iced tea, please”

and Patrick added

“Just water, thanks”

Ignoring the looks from his friends.

Miranda nodded, smiled and left.

“Patrick, sweetheart”

Patricia cooed and reached her hand over Andy and squeezed her son’s ~~bony~~ hand.

Patrick pulled a strained smile

“Hi mom, how are you?”

he asked politely, **NOT** looking at the menu.

“I’m doing well, dear, and so’s your brother, but the question is ‘How are you?’ Pete told me you were sick and ended up in the hospital. Was it the flu? Some foreign disease that you got on tour?”

Patricia questioned.

Patrick wasn’t sure what to say, _‘she didn’t know?’_.

That threw him off a bit.

Why hadn’t Pete told his mom?

Patrick sent a questioning look to Pete, but he had his nose buried in the menu.

“No, mom, it wasn’t some foreign disease or the flu, and it doesn’t matter, I’m better now.”

He partially lied.

Joe snorted quietly, but thankfully Patricia didn’t hear him.

Patricia leaned back in her seat and beamed at her son.

“I’m glad, I worry about you” s

he said before picking up her menu.

Patrick glared at Joe, and avoided Andy’s eyes, and picked up his menu.

He began searching for something ‘safe’, like a salad, or a small cup of soup, or.....

but Patrick knew that the guys wouldn’t let him.

He would have to have something that followed that fucking meal plan.

Just as he was cursing his best friends in his head, Miranda came back with his and Andy’s drinks.

Patrick thanked her then took a long drink.

“Are we ready to order?” She asked.

Someone must have nodded.

Pete started- he ordered the _“Roasted Maine Lobster in Alsace Gewurztraminer Butter and Ginger”_ ,

then Patricia ordered _“Filet of Sole New Meunière, Pomme Mousseline, Espelette, Petite Capers”_ ,

Andy requested _“Braised Celeriac, Black Garlic, Farro Compote, Hazelnut Celery Bouillon”,_

and when Patrick froze Joe ordered a _“Dry-Aged New York Steak, Béarnaise, Alsace Potato Gnocchi, Garden Vegetables”_

and finally Patrick asked for the _“Casco Bay Sea Scallops, Poelée of Alsace Cabbage, Caraway Seed, Melfo”._

When Miranda left Patrick cautiously looked at Joe, who nodded slightly.

The wait for food was full of small talk, tour stories, and news from Patrick’s brother.

It also consisted of anxiety and dread for Patrick.

His leg bounced and his hand alternated between twisting his cloth napkin and drumming sporadically on the table.

Joe kept bringing him into the conversation, and Andy put his hand on his knee eventually to stop his fidgeting.

Patrick knew that logically he shouldn’t feel like he was going to be shot at any moment, it was just dinner at a restaurant and he’s had dinners at restaurants before, even after this _‘not-eating’_ thing.

Besides, his mom didn’t know that her son was a ~~fat fucking disgrace~~ , and had an ‘eating-disorder’ and was just a ~~massive fuck up.~~

Eventually Miranda came back with a tray full of food.

She gracefully handed each plate to their orderers and asked with a smile if they needed anything else, which they said no we’re fine now.

 Pete and Joe dug in with gusto.

Patricia and Andy delicately started.

And Patrick just stared until he felt his mom’s questioning look.

Then he carefully, slowly cut his food into halves, fourths, eighths and...

Joe kicked him lightly.

He then lifted a piece of scallop and took a bite.

It was ~~delicious~~ disgusting.

Patrick chewed, chewed, chewed, and chewed before swallowing and repeating.

He tuned out of the conversation while he ~~stuffed his fat face~~ ate, but he did hear his mom laugh a lot, and Joe snort, and Pete’s braying laughter.

Eventually- eons later- he had finished and shortly after as he tried to was the disgusting taste out of his mouth with his - refilled- water, Miranda came back took the remaining plates-his and Andy’- away, then came back and asked if anyone wanted a dessert.

His fear must have shown because not even ‘bottomless’ Joe said yes.

After Pete paid the check they all walked out and waited for their respective cars.

Pete whispered something to Joe and Andy while Patrick shivered further away.

Patricia came up to her son and had a puzzled look on her face.

“Pat, honey? If something was wrong, you would tell me, right? And you know I will love you always, no matter what, right?”

She asked.

Patrick felt tears, but that could just be from his disgust and uncomfortable stomach.

“Of course mom”

he lied

“Everythings fine, I’m fine, we’re fine, everyone’s fine.”

He didn’t look at her.

Patricia sighed.

“Darling you know I was a nurse for a few years before you were born. I can see the signs, hon.”

She whispered.

And now, now Patrick was crying.

“Nothing’s wrong mom, I’m fine, there are no fucking signs.”

he protested.

“Patrick, I want you to tell me the truth, why were you in the hospital?”

She pressed.

But Patrick was saved from answering when Andy’s car pulled up.

Patrick quickly ~~retreated~~ to the car, but his mom followed and got in the back passenger seat.

Andy, who was in the driver’s seat raised an eyebrow at Patrick’s tear stained cheeks, then at Patricia.

“It’s alright Andrew, I rode with Pete, and I’ll just get a taxi as soon as Patrick tells me the truth.”

She explained waving to Pete.

Andy- smart man- didn’t question her and pulled away from the restaurant.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> menu items were copied from an online menu that came up when i googled 'expensive restaurants' and i'm not entirely sure what Patricia Stumph does, but 30+ years ago she was a nurse in this story.


	22. Chapter 22

The ride back to Patrick’s house was uncomfortable.

Andy drummed loudly on the steering wheel.

Patricia stared at the back of her son’s head, occasionally sighing.

Patrick was curled up in a ball. With his head resting on his knees, which had been brought up on the seat to his chest with his arms wrapped around.

His seat belt was digging into his ~~skin~~ fat.

His side was bothering him and his stomach was in knots.

Anxiety, terror, and nausea all mixed together.

Eventually they parked and Andy turned the car off and got out.

He opened the car door for Patricia.

Patrick stayed curled up until his mom opened his door.

He looked up and saw Andy waiting on his front steps and his mom standing next to the car, looking at him with patience and worry.

“Patrick? How about we go inside and get you comfortable. Then you can tell me.”

Patrick nodded and got out of the car.

He unlocked the front door and let Andy and his mom in.

“Make yourselves comfortable, I’m going to change.”

Patrick said.

He grabbed his duffel bag and slowly ascended the stairs.

He heard hushed voices then someone following him.

He glanced back and saw Andy with his own duffel bag.

“Guest rooms on the left at the end of the hall.”

Patrick muttered and went into his room.

He dropped his bag on his bed and was about to go into the bathroom.

**(Uncomfortable, purge, fat, disgusting, purge, purge, PURGE!)**

When Andy knocked and came in without waiting.

“ANDY!?”

Patrick jumped in surprise.

“I’m getting dressed now asshole.”

Andy sat on the edge of his bed and shook his head.

“No you were heading into the bathroom to make yourself throw up.”

Andy told him straightly and disapprovingly.

“I-I-uh”

Patrick tried to say something.

“Patrick, I thought you were doing better? C’mon lets talk about this.”

Andy almost begged.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I’m fine. You’ve got it wrong okay.”

Patrick denied and stepped towards the bathroom, but a voice stopped him.

“Patrick Martin Stumph, sit down on that bed right now. I know when you’re lying and right then you were. Sit. Andy and I just want to help.”

Patricia said in a voice that was sharp at first but then became softer.

Patrick was torn between yelling, screaming, running into the bathroom and locking the door or listening to his mother and talking about- ugh- his _feelings_.

“Patrick.”

Patricia said again, and Patrick sighed and gave up.

He turned and sat on his king sized bed, furthest away from Andy and his mom.

“Good, now Patrick are you going to tell me why you were in the hospital and why Andrew is staying over?”

Patricia gently asked.

Patrick brought his knees to his chest, hugged them, and shook his head.

“You already know, don’t you mom?”

He mumbled.

He heard Patricia sigh and sit down on his bed.

“I have an idea, Patrick, but I don’t want to make assumptions, I was hoping you would trust me.”

Patrick opened his eyes and took his head off his knees.

He looked up and saw his mother’s worried face and Andy’s full of compassion.

He took a breath.

“I was admitted for an eating disorder. For anorexia and bulimia. I fainted on stage. Apparently I was malnourished and dehydrated and ‘ ** _underweight_** ’”

Patrick told his mom, complete with finger quotations.

Patricia had tears running down her face and she climbed over to her son and pulled him into a tight hug, and held him.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right really short for now but i promise the next is going to be better, as soon as i'm done with this one project.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so... last time i said this was going to be 'better' and i'm sorry but I believe i have lied. please forgive me.

Patrick didn’t cry, but his mother did.

“When did this start- how long?”

Patricia asked, letting go of Patrick.

Andy leaned in, he hadn’t heard this yet.

Patrick gave a weary sigh.

“I don’t know. I- I mean. I never- I always had body image issues, right? but this-.... not eating thing (he still didn’t think of it as an eating disorder) started at the beginning of our hiatus.”

Andy swore and Patricia cried some more.

“Fuck. Patrick, yeARS!!??  Wait, what about Soul Punk. You spent part of it with Panic, didn’t you?”

Patrick shrugged.

“It wasn’t that noticeable. I mean, yea they complimented me on my ‘weight loss’, but they weren’t around enough to notice how mu--- how little I was eating, or the binge-purge cycle. This”

Patrick gestured to himself

“this isn’t Brendon or Spencer or anyone elses’ fault. This is all me.”

Patrick finished.

“Okay”

Patricia said

“I want to know everything. How bad it was when you were in the hospital, and what your plan is for recovery.”

She looked at her son then at Andy when Patrick didn’t answer.

“Pretty bad”

Andy started

“He was in a coma, his liver was close to shutting down. They had him on a feeding tube while he was out”

Andy was cut off by Patrick as he cried

“WHAT!?”

causing Patricia to flinch back at the force of it.

Andy explained calmly

“Yeah, for the first 48 hours, then they switched it out.”

Patrick’s eyes were wide and his breathing erratic and he stuttered.

“Do y- you know how---- ma-many calories they gave me then !?!?!?!?!?!?”

screeching at the end, before his breathing became too fast and short.

Andy reached for him but Patricia stopped him.

“Give him space, he’s having an anxiety attack. Patrick? honey, listen to my breathing, I’m going to count and you try and follow okay?

Inhale, 1-2-3-4.

Exhale, 1-2-3-4.”

Continuing to count she motioned for Andy to take over.

Once he did, she move around Patrick, telling him exactly what she was doing.

“Patrick? keep breathing with Andrew, but let me have your hand. Okay good, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing bad is going to happen, you’re okay, you’re safe, keep breathing with Andrew.”

Patricia soothed and Andy counted until Patrick’s breathing had evened out and he slowly lifted his head.

“There’s my Patrick. I’m going to get you some water, you’ll be okay?”

Patrick nodded to his mom.

Andy moved to Patricia’s vacant spot and rubbed small soothing circles on Patrick’s back.

Patricia came back quickly with a bottle of water, and handed it to Andy, who offered it to Patrick.

“Do you think you can drink some water?”

Patrick nodded and took the offered bottle with shaking hands.

Andy had to reach and open it before Patrick drank half in small sips.

“How are you feeling?”

Patricia asked her son.

Patrick shrugged

“Embarrassed, scared.”

He mumbled.

Andy started to rub his back again.

“Why are you embarrassed?”  

Patricia asked, keeping her voice soft, smooth, comforting.

Patrick leaned back and stretched one of his legs out, resting partially on Andy.

“I just....... I thought I was..... I just **HATE** these anxiety attacks... I thought I was getting... I hadn’t had one in a while. I hate this whole **THING**.. this not-eating thing..... **IT’S CONTROLLING ME!**.. **AND I HATE IT!**..... I don’t want this anymore.... I don’t want this voice in my head telling me shit... I want to be by **HAPPY**!!”

he yelled.

He began to sob and Andy pulled him into a hug, with Patricia joining in.

Patrick cried and so did his mom.

Andy had tears in his eyes, but none had fallen yet.

“Patrick, I think we should look at that list and decide who to call tomorrow.”

Andy suggested.

Patrick nodded, pulled out of his mom’s arms and wiped at his eyes.

“Yeah, do you know where that is?”

Patrick asked.

Andy nodded and got up and went to get the paper from the guestroom.

“Honey”

Patricia cooed

“Oh, my baby boy, my precious Patrick.”

Patrick smiled tightly.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Patrick said, climbing off the bed and away from his mother.

Patricia sternly and worriedly said

“Patrick.”

He turned to face her and sighed.

“Relax mom, I’m just going to pee. If I’m not out in a minute you and Andy can knock down the door, or something.”

He assured her.

Patrick turned and shut the bathroom door behind him.

He wasn’t going to puke.

_ **He wasn’t!** _

He just needed to pee.

He had had 5 glasses of water at dinner, after all.

 

 

Just as he finished and went to wash his hands he heard Andy come back and ask where he was.

Then there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Patrick?”

Andy’s voice was slightly panicked.

“Yeah, come in, just washing my hands.”

Patrick said.

_‘I knew they wouldn’t trust me again, but it beats not having the band’_

Patrick thought.

Andy peeked in and before he could ask Patrick said

“I didn’t purge.”

trying to keep ~~his~~ the voices disappointment out of it.

Andy nodded and led Patrick back to his room.

Patricia was on the phone looking out the window.

Andy sat on the edge of the bed, list in hand.

“Do you want to do this here, or downstairs on the dining room table."

Andy asked.

“Downstairs, would be easier”

Patrick answered.

Andy nodded and nodding to Patricia followed Patrick down stairs.

On the one end of the dining room table was Patrick’s desktop computer.

The rest covered with papers and junk.

Patrick hadn’t used his dining room in a while.

With Andy sitting next to him, they systematically made their way down the list of professionals.

Patrick had the option to stay with his current PCP or switch to another doctor who had more experience in eating disorders.

He also had to select a nutritionist and a therapist.

Also he had to make a single appointment with a psychologist for an assessment and to see if medication would help.

After a lot of research, Patrick and Andy found out that his current PCP had little experience with eating disorders, but another doctor in the same practice and building was highly rated and had worked at an inpatient clinic earlier in her career.

There was also a kind looking, and highly rated nutritionist three blocks from the doctor.

Across the city was a psychiatrist and a therapist in the same complex.

Patricia had come down halfway through and when they finished she hugged Patrick and kissed him, telling him she love him.

She embraced Andy too and whispered

“thank you”,

before leaving, getting in the taxi she had called.

Andy who had written down the necessary info quickly emailed it to Pete, Joe, and their manager Helen, who would make the calls and needed appointment times.

The time was **11:56.**

Andy had started yawning half an hour ago, but Patrick was still wide awake.

“Tell you what, pick a movie or a show and we’ll watch it. I’ll fall asleep soon, and eventually you will too.”

Patrick nodded and they went upstairs to (finally) change clothes.

Patrick was quicker and returned downstairs first, choosing Star Wars Episode IV.

As he put it in and turned it on Andy came down and flopped on the couch.

Patrick relaxed into the pillows.

“Hey”

Patrick looked over at Andy and say that he had 2 bottles of Ensure.

Patrick made a faced, but took the bottles, opened one, took a sip, and pressed play.

Andy clocked out befor Luke got off Tatooine and Patrick finished his first bottle.

Patrick didn’t notice until he emptied the first bottle, when Andy snored softly.

Patrick then looked at the empty bottle.

Andy had taken off the label so Patrick didn’t know the calorie count, but he knew it was a lot.

Patrick looked at Andy, still sleeping, then at the second unopened bottle.

He could just get up and dump it down the sink.

Andy snored again and tilted his head away from the T.V. light and straight at Patrick.

Patrick knew that Andy was a heavy sleeper, he could get up and no one would know.

As Han Solo griped at Chewy on the screen Patrick slumped back on his couch and cracked the lid.

As the credits rolled Patrick had finished the second bottle and fall asleep.


	24. Chapter 24

When he woke up Patrick was in his bed, tucked under his many blankets.

Andy- who must have carried his fat ass upstairs at some point last night- was over by the window, lifting up the shades.

“Look alive, Sunshine.”

Andy said.

“I want you downstairs in 20 minutes.”

Patrick groaned, rolled over, buried his head under his pillow, before looking at his alarm clock.

**9:45 a.m.**

Patrick groaned again.

But he duly got out of bed once Andy shut his bedroom door.

Patrick stretched, pulling the stiff muscles of his back.

He sighed in content.

Rubbing at his eyes he moved to his dresser and pulled out a pair of worn jeans (too big), a tattered Twenty One Pilot shirt, a pair of batman boxers, and 2 pairs of wool socks.

Clutching the bundle close to his chest Patrick walked to the bathroom.

Setting his clean clothes on the edge of the sink _(DON’T LOOK IN THE MIRROR)_ he pulled off his pajamas, careful of the wounds, unwrapped the bandages and started the shower.

While he was waiting for it to warm up Patrick used the toilet.

He quickly washed himself, still too asleep to pick at himself.

Patrick finished, redressed his cuts with the first aid stuff under the sink, got dressed, and brushed his teeth while the mirror was still steamy.

He went out and was going to go downstairs, but was so cold in the tee-shirt.

He found a sweater and pulled it on, before going downstairs.

Once downstairs Patrick found Andy in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

On the table there were two places set.

Patrick sat down in the one without the glass of milk.

Andy looked over.

“That cups’ for you.”

he said then returned to cooking.

Patrick took a deep breath but reached for the glass, brought it to his lips, and took a small sip.

It had been a while.

Not-eating also meant not-drinking except for water.

It tasted better that Patrick was expecting.

He took another sip.

Andy saw as Patrick took another and another, still small, sip.

Focusing on the (vegan) pancakes [(x)](http://kblog.lunchboxbunch.com/2013/08/loveliest-lemon-vegan-pancakes-comfort.html) he was almost finished with.

Another flip or two and Andy was carrying the plate of stacked pancakes to the small kitchen table. 

Andy noted that Patrick’s milk was halfway gone. 

He smiled, it was normal soy milk, but with added protein powder, to follow Patrick’s meal plan. 

“Bon Appetite” 

Patrick smiled as much as he could with the voices protesting in disgust. 

Andy put 2 pancakes on Patrick’s plate and 4 on his own.

He also poured maple syrup over his own, before cutting into them and placing a forkful in his mouth. 

Patrick was less enthusiastic. 

He cut the stacked pancakes into halves, then fourths, then each forth in half, and each half of each fourth into half, and... 

“Trick, c’mon, take a bite.” 

Andy prompted. 

Patrick looked up and blushed. 

“R-right, sorry” 

He apologized, but stared at his plate again. 

“No need to apologize, just pick up your fork man, it’ll be alright.” 

Andy sounded so calm and confident. 

_How did he know it was going to be ‘alright’?_

Patrick was going to gain so much weight. 

Patrick stabbed the smallest piece and lifted it up to his mouth. 

He quickly put it in, shut his mouth, put the fork down, and chewed. 

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13 

Swallow. 

Sip of milk. 

Another small forkful. 

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13 

Swallow. 

Sip of milk.

Again and again.

Andy waited until Patrick was nearly done.

He had finished seconds long before.

Then he said.

“So I called Helen, and she’s made appointments. Also Pete called while you were still asleep.”

Patrick put his fork down.

There were only 4 small pieces of pancake left and not even 2 inches of milk.

“What did Pete say?”

he asked and took the last sip of milk.

“Just wanted to know how you were doing... said he’s got some lyrics if you think you’re up to decoding them.”

Andy smiled fondly at the thought of Pete.

Patrick who was chewing the next to last piece swallowed after 13 and said.

“I can try, but maybe Joe should work on the compositions?”

Patrick’s left hand snaked down and rubbed (scratched, pulled) at his ~~fat~~ and bandages.

He took the last bite.

Andy smiled widely.

“Yeah man, I’m sure Joe’ll love to, but like I said- I talked to Helen, you’re first appointment is with your new PCP Dr. Maria Anema, and it’s at 12:15.”

Patrick swallowed.

“Don’t you think that’s too soon?”

his voice cracked a little.

“No”

Andy simply said.

“Okay, then what are we going to do until then?”

Andy shrugged.

In the end Andy read “The Wanted Moon” and Patrick played softly on his acoustic.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so it's really short and just stupid, i'm sorry, just argh

Patrick wasn’t feeling well.

And it wasn’t about food.

Or it was.

Everything around Patrick was about food now.

Or that’s what it seemed like to Patrick.

The doctor’s.

The doctor’s office was where the world slipped from under Patrick.

Again.

Much like the hiatus.

Dr. Anema was nice enough.

But as the minutes ticked and tests went by Patrick grew more and more uncomfortable.

At one point when it was just him and Andy, Patrick turned and in a nervous voice asked

“We’re going to leave, right?”

Andy had looked up from the magazine he was reading- Good Housekeeping.

“You’re not going to leave me here, put me in a hospital, lock away the key, and forget about me?”

Andy set down the magazine, got up, and walked to the exam table where Patrick sat.

In the green hospital gown he looked like a little kid, feet dangling off the floor, and too, too ~~thin~~.

Andy sat next to him, put his arm around Patrick and pulled him in close.

“I’m not leaving you, Joe’s not leaving you, Pete’s practically in love with you so there’s no way you’re getting him to leave you alone. We’re not ever going to leave or give up on you.”

Andy squeezed his ~~bony~~ figure tight again just as there was a knock and the door opened and Dr. Anema walked in.

“Apologies, I can come back, gentlemen.”

She said in a crisp accented voice.

“You’re fine doc”

Andy assured her, jumping down and sitting back in his chair.

Patrick smiled weakly to his doctor.

“Alright then, Mr. Stump, today we did many tests, including a x-ray. What we found was early signs of osteoporosis- a weakening of the bone. Calcium levels in your shins, knees, and hands have decreased..”

Andy cut her off.

“What does that mean, doctor?”

She smiled

“As I said, early signs, so with the proper nutrition nothing should happen. Mr. Stump’s calcium levels weren’t critical and he hasn’t complained of any pain or difficulty, or have you Mr. Stump?”

Patrick quickly shook his head (and the room spun).

Dr. Anema nodded.

“The other thing I noticed through my examination was a couple tears in your esophagus, again, nothing critical, which is a miracle all things considered.”

Patrick interjected

“How so?”

Dr. Anema answered

“To be blunt, Mr. Stump, you’ve been struggling with anorexia as well as bulimia for the past few years, that combined with the fact that your career is singing, the damage to your throat is not nearly as bad as I had expected.”

Andy spoke up

“Would it get worse, and what would happen then?”

“Well, it would be aggravated by purging”

She looked firmly at Patrick

“Or a severe sore throat. The tears are healing, but they were caused by fingernails or other objects Mr. Stump may have used to purge, along with the stomach acid that comes with purging.”

Patrick looked embarrassed and apologetic.

“If you were to aggravate the situation, Mr. Stump, you may lose your ability to sing altogether or just a few notes off your range.”

Patrick felt sick.

Years ago he hadn’t wanted to sing, didn’t think he was any good.

But now he couldn’t imagine not singing.

He shook his head rapidly.

“I don’t want to lose my voice. I love singing. I wouldn’t give that up.”

Dr. Anema looked professionally skeptical but smiled.

“Then don’t aggravate your situation”

Patrick nodded and so did Andy.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a bit that i forgot to include in chapter 25.  
> it sucks and i'm sorry.  
> oops.

Dr. Anema turned to Andy,

“Mr. Hurley, could I speak with Mr. Stump alone for a moment?”

Andy’s brows furrowed but he complied, getting up, leaving, and closing the door behind him.

After it clicked Dr. Anema turned to Patrick.

“Mr. Stump- Patrick, another thing that I noticed was the 6 cuts on your stomach.”

She paused, maybe for Patrick to confess, before continuing when he didn’t.

“They look like they’re self inflicted. They are aren’t they?”

Patrick felt horrible, but nodded.

_‘Couldn’t even keep this little thing a secret, stupid, stupid, stupid.’_

Dr. Anema sighed.

“They’re still relatively fresh. Now I don’t have the power to do anything more than recommend you to a psychiatrist, which I know you have already, so....

Should I inform Mr. Hurley, or are you not at-risk?”

Patrick shook his head.

“Don’t tell Andy.... doctor - patient confidentiality, right?”

Dr. Anema pursed her lips.

“Yes, that’s true, I won’t.”


	27. Chapter 27

The next couple days were mostly uneventful.

Patrick was bored.

And anxious.

And disgusted ~~ing~~.

2 days after Patrick’s appointment with Dr. Anema Patrick had his first appointment with the psychiatrist.

The night before Patrick tossed and turned in bed.

He mumbled under his breath.

“No, no, no, no, no”

His left hand gripped the sheet and he kicked off the covers.

Then he sat up.

Gasping for breath.

He was panicked and sweaty.

More sweaty than when he was on stage.

Patrick’s heart was pounding.

A scream was trapped in his throat, but he couldn’t remember what it was he was screaming about.

His whole body was shaking and as the cool, air conditioned, air hit his sweaty body he felt immensely cold.

Cold like he had been on tour.

Cold like he was stranded in the arctic with just a towel on.

Patrick got up and stumbled into the bathroom.

The Ensure that he had swallowed hours ago were thrashing around in his stomach.

Patrick turned on the shower.

Hot.

Burning.

Scalding.

Hot.

Like a trip to the sun, dressed in a parka.

He needed to get warm.

Patrick stumbled into the stone shower and promptly fell down.

He caught himself at the very last minute and slumped against the side, water falling in his face.

Still too cold.

Much too cold.

Even under water that was boiling.

Patrick didn’t know how long he stayed there.

He may have fallen asleep.

In the shower.

In his pj’s.

Wet.

Cold.

That’s where Andy found him when he went to wake him up for breakfast.

Andy, who had been up since 6am, and had gone for a short jog while he thought Patrick was still asleep, trudged up the stairs and opened the door to Patrick’s room.

The bed was a mess.

And empty.

Blankets, pillows, sheets, and comforters had all been kicked off the bed.

And there was a large sweat stain on the middle of the bed.

But no Patrick.

Andy panicked for a total of 3 seconds before he saw the open bathroom door.

Then he panicked some more.

Andy quickly made his way to the bathroom and found Patrick in the shower.

The water now cold.

With a vacant look in his eye.

 

Andy didn't bring it up at breakfast. 

Neither did Patrick.

He mechanically ate his oatmeal with peanut butter and banana.

And sipped his milk.

Pete came over after breakfast, bringing with him a small suitcase.

He hugged Patrick.

Too tightly on Patrick's  ~~bulging~~ stomach.

Patrick just laughed.

Ten minutes later Andy hugged him goodbye.

Lifting his ~~fat~~ body up, trying to break his back, perhaps.

Patrick sat next to Pete and watched cartoons, curling up next to his best friend and falling asleep as Timmy Turner wished for a chocolate shake.

Pete had talked to Andy earlier as Patrick got dressed in the next room.

Andy told him about that morning.

In the shower.

And the bed.

But Pete wasn’t that worried.

He had done some research and apparently during recovery the patient.

Patrick.

Can experience days and nights of feeling hot and sweaty.

And it’s normal within nutritional restoration.

It meant he was getting better.

Pete smiled down at his best friend before checking the time.

11:11 am.

Pete quickly shook Patrick’s frail shoulders.

“Tricky, honey, time to get up, we have to leave in 20 minutes.”

Pete said, getting up and stretching.

Patrick, who had marvelous bed-head, got up more slowly, grumbling under his breath.

Eventually Pete parked right outside the front door of the psychiatrist's building.

The car ride hadn’t been that bad.

Hell, Patrick had even sung.

And one of their songs had been on the radio.

He had also laughed at a stupid joke Pete said.

He wasn’t acting like a zombie.

 

Bundled up in 2 sweaters, and with a fedora on his head, pulled down to cover his eyes Patrick signed in and sat next to Pete.

Pete smiled encouragingly when he caught Patrick’s eye, then went back to playing Trivia Crack.

Patrick had just passed another level in Candy Crush when his name was called.

Taking a deep, shaking breath he went and followed the nurse back, smiling when Pete gave him a thumbs up.

****  
  
  



	28. Chapter 28

Dr. Menahem Morgenstern was a short, thin, balding man.

He had a kind face and horrible taste in ties.

His voice was soft, yet high pitched.

His yarmulke covered most of his bald spot, but did little to control his leftover greasy hair.

After Monica, the nurse, took Patrick’s blood pressure and recorded his weight (with Patrick facing away from the number) she led him to Dr. Morgenstern’s office.

Patrick sat down on one of the plush red velvet chairs and looked cautiously at the man in the leather swivel chair.

Dr. Morgenstern smiled.

“Hello Patrick. I’m Dr. Morgenstern.”

He introduced himself.

“Hi.”

Patrick was nervous.

“So... how does this work.”

Dr. Morgenstern smiled warmly.

“You tell me, Patrick. Would you like to start? Or do you want me to ask the routine written down questions?”

Dr. Morgenstern offered.

“The second, please”

Patrick made himself comfortable.

“Very well, can you tell me your identity?”

Dr. Morgenstern picked up a clipboard from his desk.

“Patrick Stump”

“Marital status?”

“Single”

Dr. Morgenstern made a note

“Highest level of education?”

“High School”

“Occupation?”

Patrick hesitated.

“Rock star? Um lead singer of Fall Out Boy”

Dr. Morgenstern wrote something down.

“Spiritual or Religious identity?”

“Agnostic, um sorry”

Dr. Morgenstern chuckled.

“Do not be sorry, I keep my religious views out of my medical practice. And you are of course entitled to your own opinion and view Patrick”

Patrick nodded, sighing in relief.

He didn’t like when religious people tried to shove their beliefs at him.

Dr. Morgenstern checked his papers.

“Now, Patrick, can you briefly tell me why we’re meeting today?”

Patrick grimaced.

“I, um, fainted on stage a couple weeks ago. I was admitted into the hospital via the emergency room. My doctor there- Dr. Morrison- said that I was... that the

reason I passed out was because I was malnourished, dehydrated, and underweight. She said that I had the symptoms of an eating disorder. It was recommended

that I see someone like you.”

Patrick wasn’t looking at Dr. Morgenstern as he wrote it down.

“Patrick, do you feel like you have an eating disorder?”

Patrick quickly shook his head then paused and nodded.

“Yeah”

Dr. Morgenstern jotted this down, too.

“If you had not fainted on stage and gone to the hospital where do you think you’d be right now?”

Patrick thought for a moment.

His first thought was thinner.

So he said that, then continued.

“the guys wouldn’t be worried either”

Dr. Morgenstern tilted his head.

“Are you more concerned with your friends than with your own well being, Patrick?”

 

Patrick nodded and explained

“They’re more important”

“How so?”

Dr. Morgenstern questioned

“They just are... Pete has a son, Bronx, and a girlfriend who loves him.

Joe’s got a wife and a little baby girl, Ruby.

Andy’s the best vegan drummer out there. And he’s active in politics and moral debates and shit.

I’m just... me.”


	29. Chapter 29

Patrick sat at his kitchen table looking at the shiny new, orange bottle in front of him.

It was a prescription for Zoloft, prescribed by Dr. Morgenstern.

Patrick rested his chin on the table and stared at the pills.

He knew that they weren’t a magic cure.

He learned that much from Pete and his medications.

He had talked more to Dr. Morgenstern, he had told him about how he wanted to recover, how he didn’t want this not-eating thing to control him anymore.

And the doctor had suggested therapy, which Patrick said he already had an appointment coming up, and then perhaps a support group and medication.

Patrick had been very against the support group.

People talk.

He didn’t want anyone to recognize him.

The last thing he needed was more people- strangers he didn’t know- or the fans- especially them- to know that he was weak and disgusting.

So medication.

Patrick had never really been on medication.

He had some sleeping pills for the few nights he, like Pete, couldn’t sleep, and he regularly took some sort of throat medication.

Even more so after the not-eating... the purging.

The Zoloft was more to regulate his emotions and stabilize his behaviors.

Help his messed up brain with the chemical issues it had.

He started drifting asleep at the table, his eyelids drooping.

Patrick was always tired.

Lack of proper nutrition or some other shit.

He let his eyes close and soon he was dreaming.

* * *

 

Patrick stood in an open field.

Like the movies it was endless golden wheat as far as he could see.

He was alone for only a moment.

Then he saw his friends and family walking through the wheat to him.

Then there were cages and surgical tables.

And Patrick was chained to a chair.

He watched the others climb either into the cages or onto the tables.

Shackles magically appeared on their hands and legs.

Then it started.

Pete who was closest to him on a surgical table started screaming in pain.

And Pete along with others got phantom cuts all over their bodies, long, thin, deep cuts.

Much like the six Patrick had on his side.

Andy, the nearest in a cage, and the others in cages began to weep as alarmingly quickly their bodies lost fat and their skin shrivelled and shrunk and left them looking skeletal.

With too big eyes, sunken into their bony skulls and exposed collarbones and no muscles (like Andy should).  

Then, as Patrick began to shake, the screaming of those laying down bleeding ceased and all together Patrick’s dream family and dream friends yelled loudly 

**“DON’T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING PATRICK!”**

and he woke up.

 

* * *

 

Patrick didn't wake up screaming or gasping for air.

He woke slowly. 

Tiredly.

Confused.

Heart pounding and fear in his veins.

Pete stood staring at him in worry.

Patrick turned when he finally calmed his heart.

Pete was blurry.

Patrick was crying.

_It was just a dream... just a dream._

"I made spaghetti." 

Pete motioned to the set table.

"I hadn't realized you were asleep until just now."

Patrick nodded slowly, still remembering dream Pete on the table, bleeding.

"I don't remember falling asleep."

Pete nodded and put on a smile.

"Right well, um let me get your food and meds. You have to take them with either food or drink so..."

Pete took both plates and scooped spaghetti on, then added snap peas and set one down in front of Patrick and the other across. 

"Grape or Orange juice?"

Pete opened the fridge, looking at Patrick.

Patrick twisted his fork through the noodles and thought before saying

"Orange, please"

Pete nodded, poured some into both glasses, then put it back into the fridge.

Pete sat across Patrick and grinned when the latter took a bite and licked his lips.

Pete pulled out the prescription bottle from his pocket, where he placed it when he started to set the table, and put one pill next to Patrick's cup.

Patrick quickly took the medicine and resumed eating.

Pete smiled and began to tell Patrick yet another crazy story as they both ate. 


	30. Chapter 30

The rest of the day went by rather quickly.

Patrick ate his food in a daze, only half-seeing Pete’s happy looks.

His mind was focused on his dream.

In fact he caught himself staring at Pete- when Pete wasn’t staring at him- just to make sure that it had been a dream.

Because, like Patrick had said, they- Andy, Joe, and Pete- mattered more than him.

And even if it had been a dream he never, ever wanted to see Pete bleeding out, or Andy starved.

And wasn’t it ironic.

He had never considered himself as a role model.

Never even saw himself as a celebrity.

Or at least he never thought himself worthy of the love and admiration of his fans.

In fact, he thought- in his dark twisted mind- that he deserved the hate.

Because the hater had been right.

Right to call him “Fatrick” and “Fatty Patty” and all the other names.

They had been right.

Patrick was pulled from his most recent musing when Pete said

"Patrick, hey um, so listen”

Patrick turned on the couch to his best friend, and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.

Pete took a breath.

“I’m worried.”

Patrick stayed silent knowing Pete would elaborate eventually.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“I can understand that you don’t want to work on the new lyrics. I know that I have a bad track record, and I definitley don’t want to trigger anything. But I, this is going to sound somewhat selfish, I miss my best friend. For the last couple months, you haven’t been my Patrick. The one who stays up late messing around with GarageBand or some melody. The one who never gets up before noon, and is an adorable grumpy until after a few cups of coffee. The one who is sarcastic and witty and snarky. You’ve been so quiet, Patrick. I know that recovery takes time. I mean, first-hand experience, but I just..... you are going to be okay right?”

Patrick thought about it.

He had been different.

Since this not-eating thing.

But it wasn’t that.... it had been pretty bad.

He looked down at his skeletal hands.

Then up at Pete.

“I... do want to get better Pete, I do.... I don’t actually.... I never thought this would happen.... I just wanted to be better for you and the band. I.... what if I’m not worth it Pete?”

Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick.

“First things first, you are the greatest thing to have happened to me. I love you only second to Bronx, but in a different way than I love Meg and then I love my parents. Don’t you ever forget that. Secondly, me and Joe and Andy here for you to the bitter end.”

Pete squeezed, maybe a little too tight.

Patrick was crying.

But it was okay.

It was the good kinds of tears.

Recovery took time.

Patrick felt like shit now, but he knew that eventually things would be better.

It would be him and Pete and Joe and Andy.

It would be Fall Out Boy, and if they were able to save rock and roll they could save Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so, this is kinda an ending but kinda not.   
> i've come to realize that I suck at wrapping up a story.   
> I may add chapters that have a time gap.  
> To show that recovery takes time.  
> Like.... when Patrick has to get a new size of jeans, cause he's not a 00 (or the men's equivalent) I know that was scary for me.  
> Or FOB goes out to eat with maybe Panic! or something.  
> Let me know in the comments if you have any ideas!
> 
> thanks and sorry.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laila on Bits and Pieces 13 days ago  
> Like maybe something like patrick goes up a size in something and everyone is congratulating him about it , but patrick can't help but feel like shit about it , Ummmm that's all I got , so good luck !

It was normal.

Healthy.

Good.

That’s what his therapist, mom, Pete, Joe, Kevin, Dr. Morgenstern, etc would all say.

But it didn’t feel good.

 _How could he let this happen_ the voices whispered scathingly.

It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Patrick knew this was going to happen.

To clarify- Patrick was out trying on jeans.

He had gotten rid of all his old clothes during Soul Punk.

He traded in the ‘huge’ t-shirts and gigantic pants for skinny jeans (that became too loose by the end of tour).

Not that it mattered.

By then he had taken to layering 2 pairs of athletic compression pants under his jeans and wearing multiple shirts.

But now, 3 months after he had started this “recovery”, the xxs jeans were too tight.

Which led him to the nearest store.

With a hat he hadn’t worn since before the Hiatus, sweatpants, and a plain red cardigan Patrick browsed the sections praying to whatever God(s) that he wouldn’t be recognized.

He had thought, briefly, about asking Megan or Marie or even talking to his therapist Joanne, but that would have let Pete and Joe and Andy.

And Patrick could just picture it now....

Pete’s ecstatic face, Joe’s emotional hug, and Andy’s huge smile when he told Patrick how great this was.

It wasn’t.

He was bigger.

Fat.

Patrick pulled another pair off the rack and tried to shut the voices up.

Tried to remember the breathing techniques Joanne and he had practiced.

It wasn’t helping.

Patrick quickly moved and with the help of an employee locked himself in a fitting room.

He set down the pants he had picked and breathed in slowly, looking at himself in the mirror.

His heart was beating erratically and he was sweating.

He didn’t want to do this.

He didn’t want to be this size.

Patrick swallowed loudly, and with shaking hands pulled off his sweatpants and tried on the first pair of jeans.

The xs skinny jeans were still loose so Patrick took them off and tried the small.

Very loose.

He had to stop.

Patrick sat down in his boxers trying to calm himself.

He knew, logically, that he still had weight to put on, that medically his body wasn’t meant to be this size.

He reached into his sweatpants pocket and pulled out his cell.

He opened it and went into his contacts.

He scrolled down, planning on calling Joanne, but instead hit Andy’s name.

He put the phone to his ear and waited as it rang.

“Hello?”

Andy’s voice came through the speaker.

“Um, hey Andy.”

Patrick said quietly.

“What’s up, Patrick?”

“I- um- I was wondering what you were doing. Like right now?”

“Not much actually, why?”

Patrick took a deep breath

“Could you--- I’m at the store.... could you come and- I don’t know help me? I mean if you’re not busy or anything”

Patrick waited anxiously.

“Sure, give me like 5 minutes and I’ll be there... are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m- well no, but I- I’ll see you soon Andy, bye”

and Patrick hung up.

5 minutes later.

Andy parked and was making his way to the men’s section.

He looked around for Patrick before seeing him in the corner, looking at shirts.

“Hey”

He greeted, searching Patrick’s face for something.

“Do you think I should get a extra small or just bite the bullet and get a small, because I’m going to get bigger?”

Patrick said not looking at Andy.

Andy closed his eyes momentarily.

“Why not both? I mean, you have the money, and then you can just donate the one later.”

Patrick nodded.

“I hadn’t thought about that. Thanks Andy”

Patrick turned and smiled weakly.

Andy saw that he had 4 pairs of jeans in his hands.

They both went to check out.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laila on Chapter 31 Thu 09 Jul 2015 05:52AM EDT  
> Well I was thinking that maybe joe (because he hasn't be that involved recently ) walks in on patrick changing and sees his scars or catches him self harming,  
> Thank you for letting me do this , I love your writing ❤❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is actually before chapter 31 chronologically. because i'm shit at time lines. sorry.

Being in the studio, recording things, was honest to god one of Patrick's favorite parts of being a musician.

In the studio the only people looking at him were- at most- Pete, Joe, Andy, Kevin, and sometimes Dirty and some techs.

His favorite part was when he was all alone in a sound room.

Just testing out a verse.

It was one of the only times he felt completely at ease in the last months.

It had been almost 2 months since he had fainted on stage.

2 months since he had been hospitalized.

He was doing..... better.

He almost always ate breakfast/lunch (depending on what time he got up).

Though he felt too full by the time dinner came round.

2 months since he had last thrown up.

But he was still sick.

* * *

 

It was a Thursday.

Patrick remembered because he could never get the hang of Thursdays.

Joe was still asleep, snoring, in the guest room when Patrick got up.

He looked at the clock by his bed and saw that it was 5:04 a.m. 

Groaning, Patrick rolled over and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

He felt like shit. 

His stomach was aching, though Patrick didn't know if it was rumbling for food or because he ate too much food last night before bed.

He had a migraine, mostly caused by the small evil voices who had decided to come back in full force that morning.

Scratching unconsciously at his belly, Patrick got up and (wobbled, unsteadily for a moment with black filling in around his eyesight) went to the bathroom. 

While avoiding the mirror Patrick undressed from his pjs. 

First stepping out of his flannel pj pants, then his black boxers, and finally pulling ~~his~~ (Joe's) shirt over his head. 

Patrick turned on the shower head, then waited for the water to warm up.

He hummed slightly under his breath, trying to drown out the vile voices.

_"Just look at you, look how fat you've gotten, how vile and disgusting, you're weak, look at what you've done! LOOK"_

And Patrick did.

His gaze lifted from staring at the floor and found every, single 'imperfection' in his reflection.

As the raw ache in Patrick's stomach got worse and the voices got louder and his migraine sharper Patrick stared into his reflection's eyes.

_"Fat", "Useless", "Failure", "Fatty Patty", "Should have listened, should have starved more", "Pig", "Gross", "Unloveable", "A Joke"_

Patrick couldn't stop them, couldn't help but agree.

He had been **so, so close** before.

Almost skinny ~~enough.~~

Almost been **_perfect_**.

Skin and bones and weightless and light as a feather.

Almost been beautiful, handsome, attractive.

But he had failed.

Now as he looked at himself in the mirror, Patrick did not see what everyone else did (what he had seen only once, at the hotel).

He couldn't see the sunken eyes that looked too big for his face, or the sharp and sunken cheekbones.

Nor the dry, healing hair.

He couldn't see his own collarbone poking out sharply, as if trying to escape from under his pale, sickly skin

He didn't see his stick thin arms.

And where his ribs were sticking out, like his collarbone Patrick saw plush, squishy FAT.

He was shaking.

In fury.

In fear.

In self-loathing disgust.

In hatred.

Hatred of his own body.

* * *

 

As hot, angry tears fell silently from his eyes Patrick reached into the right side drawer of his vanity.

A week ago he had bought a pack of razor blades ( _for emergencies, he told himself_ ), but hadn't used them yet.

He ripped open the package, not caring that most of the blades fell to the floor.

He unwrapped one and stared at it for a moment.

 

Then he put the blade against his skin, resting it gently above his left hip, just over the fading white lines from the first time.

_"Do it", "Do it now", "You deserve it", "Carve away the fat"_

His hand wavered, then lifted the blade away from his frail skin, before moving it to his right side and cutting in deep and fast.

It hurt like hell, but it made him feel alive.

He kept going deeper and longer and faster.

Then he moved to his arms, easier to cut, more fragile.

He continued.

Hacking away, not even bothering with straight, neat lines.

He just needed the release.

* * *

 

After a while, Patrick didn't know how long, he came back to himself.

He felt the sting, saw the blood, and couldn't hear Joe snoring.

Quickly, Patrick wiped the floor, put all the blades back and jumped into the (now cold) shower.

He showered quickly, not even feeling the cold- just the sting of the water on his open new cuts. 

Patrick got out, dried off- cursing the fact that all his towels were white- and pulled his first aid kit out from under the sink.

He put gauze and ointment on the cuts then wrapped a bandage around them.

* * *

 

Patrick went cautiously back into his bedroom to find clothes.

He had just finished buttoning his jeans when he heard a sharp gasp from behind him.

Patrick froze, internally panicked then slowly looked over his shoulder.

Joe was standing in his doorway, still in his pjs, eyes wide.

"Fuck"

Patrick wasn't sure which one of them had sworn, but he thought it was Joe.

Joe took a step forward and Patrick took one back.

"This isn't what it looks like?"

Patrick said meekly, phrasing it like a question rather than a statement.

Joe took 5 quick steps forward and grabbed Patrick's left arm before Patrick could move away.

With his hand wrapped tightly around Patrick's too small bicep Joe looked down into Patrick's eyes, then down at the bandages on his side and the ones on his right arm, that were slowly soaking red.

"So, you didn't cut yourself, most likely on purpose?"

Joe's voice was so level and calm that a shiver ran down Patrick's spine.

"I-I can explain, Joe" 

Patrick's voice was the opposite- scared and high-pitched.

"Why?"

Now some of Joe's pain edged into his question, his eyes searching Patrick's.

"I... I had to.... I woke up and... my head hurt and the.... those voices were back- and I.... they're right, Joe, I'm just fat and a failure... I just I needed to... It made me feel alive Joe."

Patrick looked at the wall past Joe's head.

So he was taken by surprise when Joe pulled him in for a crushing hug.

"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick."

Joe said, and Patrick knew him well enough to know that Joe was crying.

"We should go to the hospital"

Joe sniffled.

Patrick tensed up.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, I am not going inpatient. It... this was an one time thing. Joe you can't... don't please... I won't do it again... I'm sorry."

Patrick pleaded.

He couldn't go back into the hospital.

The doctors and nurses would fatten him up and never let him leave.

He couldn't do that.

 ~~Couldn't~~ Wouldn't break up the band again.

Joe pulled away and grabbed Patrick's chin so they were eye-to-eye.

"Don't think that. You need to go to the hospital because you're bleeding through your bandages, and I don't want you to die. I didn't say inpatient, but I do think you need to make an emergency appointment with your psychiatrist and therapist. And, listen to me Stump, Patrick just please believe me: you are not a failure. You are not fat. You're sick."

Patrick nodded, knowing he really had no say in the matter, but a bit comforted that Joe wasn't locking him up.

"You're sick, 'trick. You're sick, but you're gonna get better, because you have to, you're my best friend."

Joe whispered, more to himself then to Patrick.

Patrick nodded though and pulled Joe in for a hug.

He was sick.

He knew that.

Healthy minded people didn't starve themselves.

They didn't cut themselves to feel alive.

They didn't hurt their friends. 

And sure at the time starving worked.

And the pain lit him up inside, but only for a moment, now the pain made him feel even more dead.

And god he never- ever wanted to hurt his friends, or worry them, or lie to them.

* * *

 

Patrick pulled on a t-shirt as Joe called the hospital to let them know they were coming.

He followed Joe out the door, grabbing his jacket and a banana on the way.

As Joe pulled out onto the street Patrick pressed against his cuts.

And maybe smiled a tiny bit.

He was still sick.

But he was healing, he thought, as he took a bite of banana.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musiclover on Chapter 32 Mon 13 Jul 2015 05:53AM KST  
> Maybe you could write a continuation of this chapter where Pete and Andy come in after Joe told them what he caught Patrick doing? (I know it's a pretty bad idea but it was all I could think of and this is a really good fanfiction) or maybe the fob goes out for food with panic idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 1: Pete & Andy come in after Joe told them what he caught Patrick doing.  
> part 2 (next chapter): fob+panic out to lunch/dinner.

The ER was relatively empty.

In the room beside Patrick and Joe was a 84 year old woman who had fallen and broken her right foot.

* * *

 

Patrick lay perfectly still on the white gurney.

Flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. 

Joe was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair ever beside him.

Patrick listened as Joe talked quietly into the phone. 

"No, listen.. Pete, listen. He's okay, we're at the ER waiting for a doc, no just get a hold of Andy and I'll let you know when we're done. Yeah, no Pete, Patrick's gonna be alright, he's still alive, calm down. Is Meagan there, okay good, good. Pete, I swear he's gonna be okay. Talk to Andy, and if you can Patricia. Okay, bye Pete."

Patrick turned his head so he could see as Joe hung up his cell and slouched back with an exhausted sigh.

"Is Pete okay?" 

Patrick's voice was just above a whisper. 

Joe looked over at his friend, partly in surprise and partly in astonishment.

"Pete's not the one bleeding in the ER."

Joe's voice was sharp and Patrick minisculely winced.

Patrick went to reply but was saved from doing so when a man walked in.

He was tall (though most people were 'tall' to Patrick) and was wearing scrubs.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Sall, but please call me Ray."

He-Ray- shook Joe and Patrick's hands. 

(Patrick's left)

"Patrick, I'll need you to remove- carefully- remove your shirt and jacket so I can see your injuries." 

Ray then turned towards Joe.

"And you are..."

"Joe Trohman, Patrick's friend."

Ray nodded and silently helped Patrick with his shirt.

"Patrick, is it okay if Joe stays in the room while I examine you, or should he step outside?"

Ray put on a pair of gloves after sanitizing his hands.

"Joe- Joe can stay."

_'I guess I owe him that much'_

Patrick thought.

"Alright, now I'm going to start with the bandages on your stomach. So I'll just incline the bed so you can lean back comfortably."

Ray reached to the bed's control arrows and set the bed at a 150 degree angle.

Patrick lay back down and curled his hands into fists on each side, itching to cover his near-bare torso. 

Ray leaned in and gingerly examined Patrick's blood soaked bandages.

After a bit he stood up and said.

"Each layer is stuck together, I'm going to have to cut the bandage off you, is that alright, Patrick"

"Um, yeah, sure"

Using a pair of forceps Jay carefully cut away the bandage and pulled it off of Patrick.

Patrick winced when the bottom layer pulled on the drying flecks of blood on the sensitive wound area.

Jay resumed his examination.

"You're going to need stitches, the cuts are deep, you're lucky not to have bleed out." 

Patrick looked at the ceiling and Joe scowled slightly at him, frustrated that he could have easily lost Patrick.

Ray moved and and fiddled about, coming back with a needle.

"I'm just going to administer a local anesthetic. Just a pinch."

Patrick gritted his teeth.

Again Ray moved away and came back.

"Now I'm going to clean the wounded area. Just some simple saline solution and some betadine."

Patrick winced at the cold fluid and the dull pain.

"You're lucky that I didn't have to send you to the OR."

Ray commented as he turned and grabbed the needed equipment for stitching.

During the entire procedure Patrick stared straight up at the white ceiling and Joe looked in the opposite direction of the doctor.

Soon Ray stood back.

"Alright, all that's left is for me to sterilize it again, and wrap it up for you. Then we'll do your forearm in the same manner. Then, when both are wrapped a nurse will come in and finish up with your discharge and you'll be on your way."

Ray made it sound so easy.

He did as he had said, sterilizing and wrapping Patrick's side wound before taking his arm carefully.

Patrick's arm didn't need stitches, he hadn't cut as deep miraculously, so Ray just sterilized and bandaged it tightly.  

Ray stepped away and deposited his medical instruments, before turning back to Patrick and Joe.

"Now, Patrick, you are seeing someone- a psychiatrist or therapist- right?"

Patrick slowly sat up with Joe's help and nodded, feeling nauseous.

"And Joe, you'll keep a careful eye on him?"

Joe looked intently at Patrick for a moment then nodded and said with conviction.

"Yeah, doc, I promise, thank you."

Ray nodded, shook both of their hands and said goodbye and good luck. 

 

* * *

 

 

The car ride back from the hospital was silent and uncomfortable.

By the time they got to Patrick's it was 8:36 a.m. 

Joe yawned as he held open the front door for Patrick.

Patrick walked stiffly inside.

To no one's surprise Pete was asleep on the couch and Andy in one of the chairs.

"Honey, I'm home."

Joe said, a little more loudly than normal.

Which caused both men to wake up.

"PATRICK!" 

Pete rushed to get to him, jumping- and then tripping- over the back of the couch. 

Once he was upright he pulled Patrick in for a hug, mindful of his right side. 

Pete was mumbling under his breath, mostly "you're alive" 

Andy had also gotten up and was watching from the doorway.

Joe had disappeared.

Pete eventually pulled back, with tears in his eyes.

_'Look at that, see how much you hurt him, maybe you should have cut deeper, bled out, ended it, pathetic'_

A part of Patrick's mind whispered to him. 

"How could you be so stupid." 

Pete said, his voice wrecked and near sobbing.

Andy patted Pete and whispered something to him.

Pete nodded.

"Just, are you okay now?" 

Pete asked in a slightly calmer voice.

Patrick was semi-frozen on the spot, but eventually nodded. 

"I'm- I'm sorry Pete."

His voice was just above a whisper.

Pete gave him a watery smile.

"Yeah, I know 'trick, it'll be okay"

Then walked around Patrick, kissing the top of his head, to the kitchen.

* * *

 

Andy motioned Patrick to the living room and sat him down on the couch.

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

Andy asked looking at him, searching Patrick for an answer.

"I don't know"

Patrick muttered.

"Bullshit"

Patrick looked up at Andy in shock (and fear)

"Patrick, what happened this morning. I need to know. Was this just to stop whatever, or to feel whatever, or was this.... your end game scenario?"

Andy reached for Patrick's hand.

Patrick started shaking.

"No- I swear Andy, I swear, this wasn't- I wasn't going to kill myself. I promise. Please, I wasn't"

Patrick sounded scared.

_'Are you sure you weren't, maybe finally thinking about others rather than yourself, they'd be better off, maybe you should end it. **Bullet in the brain pan. Squish** "_

Patrick tried to ignore it.

"Hey, hey, okay, okay, I believe you, and thank fuck too. We were- are- worried"

Andy put a reassuring, stabilizing hand on Patrick's shaking shoulder.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, just had to, I just I----"

Patrick paused trying to think of the words.

"I deserved it, I failed, I had been so skinny, so thin, so... I deserved it and it made me feel....something... better. Or it did. Now it just... adds to the ache I feel, all the fucking time."

Andy shook his head.

"Patrick Stump, you are an adorable creature, and if I believed in a god, I'd say you were sent straight from heaven. The only thing you deserve is love and happiness and peace and...."

Pete interrupted walking in and sitting on the floor next to Patrick.

"You're my best friend, you're sick, and I know that right now you're in a bad place, but sometimes before it gets better the darkness gets better." 

Patrick huffed, his frantic heartbeat slowing down.

"Pete you can't use your own lyrics to try and make me feel better."

Pete smiled, an attempt at his usual grin.

"I'm serious, though"

"I know that, and I just... I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

Patrick turned to look at all three of his friends.

Andy who was sitting beside him on his couch.

Pete at his feet, smiling.

Joe, standing behind the couch with a plate and a glass in his hands.

 

* * *

**4 hours, 1 meal, 1 snack, 1 movie, and 3 episodes of a bad soap opera later.**

* * *

 

Pete was on the left end of the couch, intently watching the tv, trying to follow the plot and trying to guess who Juan's secret lover was.

Joe was on the right end, tapping away at his phone. 

Andy was on the floor, reading a book off of Patrick's shelf.

Patrick was laying on the couch, head in Pete's lap and feet by Joe's thigh.

Joe poked his sock covered foot and after getting Patrick's attention.

"Remember that you have an appointment in 2 hours with Dr. Morgenstern, also what do you want for lunch?"

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musiclover on Chapter 32 Mon 13 Jul 2015 05:53AM KST  
> Maybe you could write a continuation of this chapter where Pete and Andy come in after Joe told them what he caught Patrick doing? (I know it's a pretty bad idea but it was all I could think of and this is a really good fanfiction) or maybe the fob goes out for food with panic idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 1:(previous chapter) Pete & Andy come in after Joe told them what he caught Patrick doing.  
> part 2: fob+panic out to lunch/dinner.

Patrick gently smeared some scar cream on his forearms and on his side.  

Then pulled down his shirt and cardigan sleeves.

He checked his face in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair.

Once it was falling in an acceptable manner Patrick cautiously assessed the rest of his reflection.

Black skinny jeans, one of the pairs he bought with Andy's help, black and gray striped long-sleeved shirt with a dark red cardigan.

He didn't look too bad.

His stomach, as he saw it, was sticking out, a prominent round lump under his two shirts.

His thighs, from his point of view, looked like encased sausages, trying to break free from the jeans.

"no, not real, not real"

Patrick whispered to himself.

"My perception is skewed, my body does not really look like that. I'm sick. I'm sick."

Patrick took one last look in the mirror before grabbing his black fedora and placing it expertly on his head.

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, Patrick was the last to arrive at Margario's, a little cafe.

As he walked in the door and took off his sunglasses Patrick spotted Brendon, Pete, Joe, Andy, and Dallon. 

"Hey, sorry I'm late." 

Patrick apologized, sliding into the open seat on the edge of the booth, next to Dallon.

"It's cool, we got here, like, 4 minutes ago anyway."

Dallon told him.

"So... Patrick... What's new with you?"

Brendon asked curiously, exaggeratedly leaning over the table towards Patrick.

Which caused the others to chuckle. 

Shaking his head in a kind of fond exasperation Patrick told him.

"Not much, really. We're planning on recording some tracks next week, though. What about you two?"

Patrick looked at Dallon as well.

Pete looked understanding.

Joe seemed confused.

And Andy came off as half empathetic and half disappointed. 

It wasn't that Patrick was afraid to tell Brendon and Dallon, they're both friends, but it was complicated and awkward.

Complicated because how could he just tell them?

You don't just say

'Oh well lately I've been trying to recover from an eating disorder, depression, anxiety, self harm (look at the scars here) and suicidal thoughts.'

And... as for awkward... 

Patrick had spent a fair amount of time with Brendon and Dallon and Spencer during Soul Punk.

They were around him when most of this was just getting started.

Patrick knew that Brendon, being Brendon, would feel guilty.

Guilty that he 'didn't notice something was wrong' or hurt that Patrick hadn't 'come to him and talk, because he would have listened.'

He knew it would be awkward because he was already dealing with Joe, and Pete, and Andy.

Not that it was awkward, but it would have been, should be, but they were just too good of friends for it to be awkward. 

Patrick knew that Pete, and Andy, and Joe felt guilty and angry at themselves for not noticing earlier and then not doing something until it was almost too late.

He could see it in their eyes, in the sleepless nights when Pete lay beside him while Patrick was sleeping instead of in the guest room, the way Joe would not get high when he was on 'Patrick duty' so Patrick didn't have to watch and/or experience 'the munchies', the way Andy became hesitant about letting Patrick exercise with him- because too much was another extension of Patrick's disorder- but it didn't get in the way of the rest of their lives. 

Especially now that Patrick would eat a respectable amount of food without complaint or backlash. 

But as Dallon listed trivial things he had been doing, the look Brendon gave him told Patrick that he sorta, kinda already knew.

Patrick was saved from Brendon's response when a young girl- possibly an university student- came to their booth asking what they would like. 

Patrick was last to order his drink, since Mindy- their waitress- started with Pete on the opposite end of the booth. 

"Can I have a small plain cappuccino and a glass of ice water, please?"

Joe started the conversation back up after a minute of semi-awkward silence after Mindy had said

"Sure thing, hon, I'll be right back with those, guys"

And left towards the kitchen.

"Bren, how's the video coming along, the one for Hallelujah?"

"Eh, it's progressing a little slowly, and I think that our assistant director just wants me to make a ton of stupid faces, but it's good, Alexis is great, she's a riot to work with."

Mindy came back with the drinks.

"Do you guys know what you want?"

_'She's extremely peppy.'_

 Once again Mindy started with Pete and went around. 

It took less time than he expected, mostly because Margario's was vegan friendly and Andy didn't have to give specific instructions about his food. 

Patrick was only a little tense when his turn came, and he could feel Brendon's gaze as he ordered a sandwich instead of salad or soup, like he had before. 

But he didn't comment and Patrick was glad he didn't.

The rest of their meal passed quickly.

Patrick ate all of his sandwich, except the crust, and most of the ~~fattening~~ french fries that came with it.

Brendon talked about Sarah, and he and Dallon talked about how Spencer was doing. 

Joe talked about Ruby and Marie.

Andy talked CrossFit and a girl named Jamie who went to the gym sometimes.

Pete told a million tales of Bronx and Meagan and Saint.

Patrick... talked about his mom and siblings. 

 

* * *

It wasn't until after the check had been paid.

After Joe left, having to be somewhere for his daughter.

And Pete had to talk with some important person.

Andy and Dallon walked off together, just talking.

When it was just Patrick and Brendon.

Sitting on the bench outside of the cafe. 

Wearing shades and trying to be incognito.

When Brendon brought it up.

"I'm sorry"

Patrick took a deep breath.

"What for?"

He already knew.

"I should have noticed that something was wrong."

"Don't put that on yourself, Brendon. I knew how to cover it up back then."

"But I should have known. I should have recognized the signs. I spent years seeing anorexia break someone down."

Patrick turned and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Don't spread it around."

"I would never."

"Ryan."

"Ryan?"

"He had... has, maybe still... some tendicies. He was hospitalized once. I watched him as he got worse, then better, then repeated the same behaviors into a sad cycle."

"I never thought...."

"You only knew him when he was like that. People always thought it was normal for him to be stick thin. So I'm sorry. Even if you don't want my apology. And I know it wasn't my fault or anything, but I feel like I failed a friend a second time."

"I'm recovering now."

"I'm glad to hear it. You seem happy... are you?"

"I have medication and a therapist. It's not just an eating disorder. There's more to it. But yeah, I'm happy now."

Brendon smiled brightly and Patrick noticed how misty his eyes looked.

Patrick was, truthfully, happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for this chapter. I don't know how to write Panic!, and for timeline sake- it's after chapter 32 which is chronologically after 33, i think.  
> Also Musiclover- I'm not sure this is what you wanted.  
> And to everyone else, you can submit ideas if you want, I'm still in a funk about what to write about. I really want to do a superpower au since I've been like playing it out in my head, but it's sorta lame.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laila on Chapter 34 Mon 27 Jul 2015 06:57AM EDT  
> Great chapter, how about something where the guys aren't letting patrick be by himself or left alone because they are worried he might hurt himself and patrick becomes frustrated and overwelmed by all of it

Patrick was in a bad mood. 

He hadn't slept much the night before.

He had had a nightmare that woke him up, gasping for breath, at 2:54 am.

And to add to his irritability, he didn't even remember what the dream had been about.

He was tired and cranky and a little bit jumpy when he finally got out of bed and went downstairs. 

Joe was already up, and surprisingly alert, reading the comics and munching on some cap'n crunch. 

Joe raised an eyebrow at Patrick as he sat down across from Joe at the table grumbling under his breath. 

But Joe didn't say anything, because Patrick reached out and poured himself a (normal-sized) bowl of cereal with 2% milk.

* * *

 

Patrick's bad mood only got worse as the day went on. 

His extra-small skinny jeans were too tight.

 ~~Fat~~. ~~Fat~~. ~~Fat~~. ~~Fat~~.

So he had to dig a size small out of his dresser.

And the new pair didn't match his shirt like the xs had.

When he and Joe finally left Patrick's house to go to the studio, they got stuck in traffic. 

And it was raining.

So Patrick got soaked when he went across the street for coffee (the good kind), because he hadn't brought an umbrella. 

The coffee, three sugars- no cream, was delicious ~~(calorie-filled poison)~~ , but Patrick only managed to get a couple sips in before some idiot in a hurry bumped it out of his hand.

At least it ended up on the sidewalk, not on him. 

When Patrick returned to their recording room he found that Pete was running late. 

And when Pete finally got there ~~_(2 minutes later)_~~ Patrick was already chanting internally

_'calm down, breathe in 1 2, breathe out 1 2 3'_

 

* * *

 

When the group was about halfway done with what they wanted to do that day one of the machines broke.

Patrick almost lost it then and there.

But he kept it under control and agreed- not really paying attention- to going out to 'that new vegan place a couple blocks over'.

But when he got to the restaurant he wasn't just tired and cranky, he was also anxious and nauseous and so mad at ~~the guys~~ himself.

 A new 'Ma & Pa' type place, where Patrick didn't know what was ~~safe~~ on the menu, how many calories there were in each plate.

He felt the familiar sense of self-hate wash over him as the four of them sat down and looked over the menus.

_'Salad, just get the garden salad.'_

Part of Patrick whispered in his head.

_'Then they'll know something's up.... besides I'm trying to recover'_

Patrick internally whispered back, tacking on the last bit as an afterthought.

Patrick continued to pick apart the menu.

_'Too much fat, too many carbs, that looks revolting, it'll end up on your hips.'_

And he didn't notice as he scratched harshly on his healing right forearm.  

Patrick was glad that for once no one at the table was trying to get him involved in the conversation.

Patrick didn't want to talk.

He didn't want to eat.

He wanted to sleep.

* * *

 

Pete elbowed him and Patrick looked up to see their waiter.

He quickly ordered the black bean burger and a glass of iced tea (sweetened to please the guys).

Patrick looked down then and saw that his arm was covered in tiny drops of blood and red skin.

He quickly pushed down his sleeve, hoping no one noticed.

Pete did though.

He looked sideways over at Patrick, eyes still on Joe as he told them a cute story about Ruby.

"Patrick?"

He whispered.

"Is you arm bothering you?" 

_'Yes, though it's probably because I scratched some of the cuts open.'_

Patrick thought, but shook his head no to Pete.

Pete's brows furrowed and his lips turned down into a concerned from.

He definitely didn't believe Patrick.

Pete didn't say anything though, and allowed himself to be distracted by their food's arrival.

* * *

Patrick managed to finish 3/4's of his plate before his stomach felt like it would burst, his stitches pulled tightly, and his mind loud and horrible.

And though he wasn't looking for it, he noticed the coded looks between Joe, Andy, and Pete.

He took a deep breath, looking forward to going home, taking a nice long hot relaxing shower, and curling up in a ball and ~~crying himself to~~ falling asleep.

As Joe drove both of them back to Patrick's house he was unusually quiet.

Not that Patrick noticed, all his attention was focused on what was going on inside his head.

'fat, fat, fat, fat, FATTY PATRICK!, FATRICK, look at you, let yourself go, disgusting, wrong, bad, horrible...."

Patrick tried to block the insults out, not wanting to believe them, not wanting to relapse.

But as soon as he unlocked his front door he beelined to the downstairs bathroom, knowing that Joe was right behind him.

Patrick knelt down in front of the toilet after shutting the door (not locking, those had been removed).

He didn't do anything.

His fingers didn't work their way into his mouth to jab at the back of his throat.

He just knelt there, breathing a little bit too heavily.

And rubbing- not scratching- his right arm.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. 

"Patrick? Can you come out here, please"

Shockingly Pete's voice came through the door, not Joe's.

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut before replying.

"I'll be out in a second."

Patrick stood up, flushed the unused toilet and didn't look in the mirror before opening the door.

Pete was waiting just outside, his eyes searching Patrick's body, before zeroing in on the small red stains on his right sleeve. 

"Come sit down Patrick."

Pete steered him over to his living room, where Joe and Andy were sitting. 

"I thought Joe was the one staying over tonight."

Patrick forced his tone to be joking, though he really was getting sick of having them babysit him 24/7.

"We're worried."

Joe cut to the chase.

"We don't think you're in a safe mindset, so we didn't want to leave you alone."

Patrick frowned at that.

Yeah sure he was having a bad day, and the bad thoughts wouldn't quit, but he knew how to handle them.

He wasn't going to cut... they had taken all his blades away, anyway. 

'They don't trust you' 

A vicious voice whispered.

"Guys, I'm fine." 

Patrick sat down in the recliner, hugging one of his throw pillows. 

"Are you sure?" 

Andy asked, calmly.

Patrick sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, 100% sure."

Pete sat on the right arm of the couch, next to Andy.

"Then what's with your stained sleeve?"

Patrick looked down and saw that 'yeah his sleeve was stained'.

He hadn't noticed.

"Didn't notice!?" 

Patrick must have said that last bit out loud, judging by Pete's exclamation.

"Patrick, you're hurting yourself. How could you not notice.... let me see."

Pete reached over for Patrick's arm.

But Patrick yanked it away before Pete could get ahold of it.

"Trick." 

Pete warned.

"It's nothing, Pete. Guys, I'm alright... it's just been a long day, I'm tired, I just want to go to bed." 

Patrick got up and moved towards the stairs.

"Patrick... it's not that we don't trust you."

Joe started, and his mind filled in the unspoken

 _'But they_ **don't** _trust you'_

Patrick huffed, and counted to ten, squeezing his hands into fists before turning back around.

"Fine.    What do you want me to do? Hmm? You guys aren't going to be able to take turns staying over forever. So... you're going to have to trust me again sometime."

Andy shook his head.

"Patrick, we're doing this because we care about you."

Patrick rolled his eyes, not in the mood.

"I know that Andy. Really I do. But I'm fine. I'm not going to cut, or purge. **I. Just. Want. To. Sleep.** "

Patrick quickly turned and climbed the stairs (just a tad too fast).

And, though he knew it was childish and wouldn't help his case, he slammed his unlockable bedroom door. 

_'They don't trust you. Though why should they? You're a liar. You lied to them from the beginning. Liar. Liar. Liar, Liar, pants on fire. Fatty Patty is a goddamn filthy liar.'_

Patrick flopped on his unkempt bed and had a total of 4 seconds of peace.

"Patrick, we're coming in."

At least they had the decency to warn him.

Since they took away his privacy when they undid his locks.

Patrick groaned in response. 

It didn't seem to matter what he said, anyway.

He felt the bed dip on the corner, then dip and creak as someone climbed up and lay down next to him.

Patrick lifted his head from where it had been down facing a pillow and looked to his right.

Pete was looking at him, wide-eyed, slightly terrified. 

Patrick remembered the days when Pete wore that look too often.

Those days when Andy, Joe, and him watched out for Pete, and made sure he didn't do something stupid.

"Hey Peter Panda."

Patrick breathed out softly. 

Pete's face twisted so it had an echo of his signature grin.

"We're worried about you 'tricky."

Patrick closed his eyes again. 

"I'm fine. I told you."

There was a scoff (or maybe it was just a cough) behind Patrick and Pete.

"Really, I am. I'm just tired and I want to be left alone."

Pete nodded, but said

"How 'bout I stay here tonight. Cuddles and sleep only."

Patrick turned his face back down into the pillow and groaned.

"Pete. Guys... I just want to be left ALONE." 

The bed dipped again. 

"Patrick, we just want to make sure you're safe."

Andy said calmly.

Abruptly, Patrick sat up.

"I know. I know that, I do. Really, but **right now** you guys aren't helping! **You're fucking suffocating me!** I just want to be left alone for one night! Just one night guys, please. Please, please, just leave me alone."

It was quiet for a long time it seemed. 

Before Joe cleared his throat and said.

"Okay, alright Patrick. Andy, Pete, and I will go to our own homes. I'll be home to read Ruby her bedtime story, and we'll leave you alone for tonight. Andy will come to pick you up tomorrow. But if any of us find out you harmed yourself while we weren't here..... Then there is no fucking way we're leaving you alone again until maybe like christmas. Got it?"

Patrick nodded quickly.

Pete- didn't look happy- and Andy -was watching Patrick intensely- said good bye and left.

"I'm serious, Patrick."

Joe stared down at him before going and getting his bag from the guest room and also leaving.

Relieved and exhausted Patrick fell asleep quickly, without dinner and still in his jeans. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending was crap. sorry.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laila on Bits and Pieces 3 days ago  
> An idea for next chapter would be to have bronx ,ruby, and saint involved some how , like they see that something is wrong with him and they ask pete or joe about it (not sure about how they respond to it , you can decide that ) and then the kids try to make him feel better, good luck !

 

Patrick had started going to a cooking class, at the insistence of his therapist.

It had been a 5 week long course, meeting 3 nights a week (though only 1 of them was mandatory) and he had gone every night.

It was the following Sunday after the class’ ‘graduation’ ceremony, and Patrick was standing in his kitchen with a wooden spoon in his hand.

He was halfway through making Parmigiano Reggiano, Pea and Asparagus Risotto with Fillet of Beef Bourguignon (for everyone but Andy) and had already made macaroni and cheese for the kids.

And he had already had a minor panic attack.

He hadn’t panicked all throughout the classes, because he hadn’t actually had to eat the food he cooked.

Though everyone else did, and Patrick was 100% sure that his therapist was under the impression that he WAS eating the meals.

It was a little over half a year since the ‘incident’ and everyone had backed off, thinking he was better.

But he wasn’t.

Sure, he always made sure he ate a ‘proper meal’ when with one of the guys or his mom or his other friends that knew.

But ever since the guys stopped living in with him Patrick stopped eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner whenever he wasn’t with someone.

He took vitamins so his hair and skin didn’t suffer.

And he learned to keep rolls of quarters in his pockets when he was weighed at his appointments, because he didn’t want anyone to see his relapse accomplishments.

So the risotto was ready and the beef was just about done.

And Patrick still had about 20 minutes before Pete (along with Meagan, Bronx, and Saint) got here, 30 before everyone was actually invited. 

He had already set the table, so Patrick just stood there awkwardly in his own home.

He turned off the heat and covered both dishes, and headed upstairs.

Straight through his bedroom into the bathroom.

He really spent too much time there.

Patrick stared at his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror.

He lifted up his shirt and inspected his frail plump body.

He carefully ran his fingers across the red cuts from earlier that day. 

He slammed the shirt down and decided that before Pete and everyone got here he would try and burn off the nights calories.

Jogging in place.

Jumping Jacks.

Patrick's vision was clouded with bright spots.

* * *

 

He awoke to the doorbell.

He had fainted.

He checked his hair and clothes, slapped his cheeks for some color then went to let Pete (etc.) in.

"Hey Pete, Meagan. Hi, Bronx. Come on in."

Patrick put on his biggest smile.

Pete ducked in and gave him a one-armed hug.

_He'll feel my fat!_

"I brought wine! I'll put it in the fridge to chill"

Meagan gave him a full body hug.

_She's so skinny, why can't I be like her?_

And Bronx smiled up at him with Saint in his arms.

"Hi, Uncle Patrick!" 

Bronx stepped inside and headed for the living room, setting his brother down on the carpet, grabbing the remote and turning the t.v. to Nickelodeon.

Patrick shut the front door and slowly made his way to the kitchen, holding himself up/steady on the walls.

"Hey!"

Pete was smelling the food on the stove.

"Looks delicious, but I don't think Bronx is gonna eat this" 

He nodded to the risotto.

Patrick smacked his hand away and laughed.

"That's why I made mac' n' cheese, idiot"

Next to arrive was Andy.

Who brought a salad.

Patrick was glad, and tried to think of a way for him to just eat that instead of what he cooked.

Joe, Marie, and Ruby arrived shortly after and Ruby attacked Patrick, clinging on to him and refusing to let go.

She was eventually pried off by her father when everyone started sitting down.

* * *

 

Patrick could feel Ruby's little keen eyes on him all throughout the meal.

And he did notice the way Bronx looked from her to him.

Patrick was so very tense.

He tried to contribute to the conversation, and he was pretty sure he didn't raise any suspicion.

From the adults.

 

After everyone was done Meagan and Marie led him to the living room while Pete, Joe, and Andy put away leftovers.

Meagan started talking about her recent photo shoot and this one other model who she was worried about.

Patrick was enthralled as she described the stick thin beauty.

A pull on his sleeve took his attention away and he looked over at Bronx and Ruby.

"Uncle Patrick? Can we talk to you?"

"Sure, Bronx what's up?"

"No, not here."

Ruby said looking at her mom.

"Uh, sure, how about down the hall?"

Patrick glanced at Meagan and Marie before allowing himself to be led away.

As soon as the three of them were far enough away Bronx asked:

"Uncle Patrick, are you sick?"

And before he could  ~~lie~~  respond Ruby added

"Are you dying!?"

in a frightened voice.

"No, no, no, oh gosh guys no I'm fine."

_I'm fine._

_Ha, yeah right._

"Really?"

Bronx was still skeptical.

Ruby pouted at Patrick.

"Really, guys"

Bronx sighed and shook his head, curls bouncing.

"Don't lie, Uncle Patrick, you're acting like my dad did, before he met Meagan."

_Shit_.

"Bron--------"

"Don't lie! Are you dying? Please don't die!"

Ruby threw herself at his legs, wrapping her arms and legs around his bottom half.

The force of her knocked Patrick backwards and his vision blacked out a bit.

He swayed and had to put a hand out, onto the wall to stay upright.

"Rubs? Bronx?"

Joe shouted from the living room.

Before Patrick could stop them the two kids bolted towards their parents.

* * *

 

"Daddy, daddy, is Uncle Patrick sick?"

Ruby asked after Joe picked her up.

"Is he dying?"

Bronx asked.

"Wha-- buddy what makes you guys think Patrick's sick?"

Pete asked, laughing (a tad hysterically)

"Cause, Dad, he's really skinny and he looks tired and he pushed his food around and looked upset at dinner."

Bronx said loud enough for Patrick to hear, still down the hall. 

There was a long silence.

During which the adults looked at each other, anxiously.

Andy eventually called Patrick to come back into the living room.

* * *

Patrick was most certainly  **NOT  **having trouble breathing.

He was  **NOT** panicking.

He was  **NOT** unsure if he could walk back to his living room.

He also was  **NOT**  afraid of what his friends were going to say. 

Nope, no sirree. 

* * *

Patrick did actually make it to the living room.

He had had to use the walls as support, but he made it and wound up in his favorite chair.

Staring at his feet instead of anyone.

"Patrick?" 

Andy sat down next to his chair. 

"Are you okay? Be honest, please."

“Okay… Bronx, Ruby-Listen, I was sick, very sick for a long time. And about um 7 months ago it got worse and I had to go to the hospital. But only for a short time before we continued the tour. I was still sick though---“

Patrick began to explain, keeping it vague, when Bronx interrupted him.

“If you were still sick why didn’t you stay at the hospital?”

Patrick thought of how to explain.

“I wasn’t sick in the physical sense, I didn’t have a cough or the flu it was more of a sickness of the mind.”

Patrick felt horrible when a small burst of understanding shone in Bronx’s eyes.

He was Pete’s son, after all.

“And part of my sickness was that I didn’t think anything was wrong. So I left the hospital.”

Ruby still looked confused in her father’s lap.

“But you’re not better, Uncle Patrick.”

“I-.... I was getting better, Rubs. I started seeing some doctors and talked to a therapist.”

“What happened then? Did you * _relapse_ *?”

Bronx asked, whispering the word relapse like it was a bad word.

“Several times, actually. But each time Joe, Andy, or Pete was there to help me.”

“Is that why Dad stayed over at your house lots?”

“Yeah, Bronx”

“What… what are you sick with, Uncle Patrick?”

Ruby asked.

Patrick froze, looking at Andy for help, he didn’t want to mess up the kids.

Andy just nodded.

“I um ~~have~~ had an eating disorder.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s when…. it’s when. It started… When it started I would look in the mirror and I wouldn’t see what I really looked like, I saw a false perception. And the need to fix what I saw, which was bad and wrong- in my mind- that need sort of took over. It was all I could think about, and I tried a few times to “fix” it in a healthy way, but it wasn’t working….. fast enough, and I still felt… wrong so I took drastic measures. I stopped eating. At first it was just breakfast but then it was breakfast and lunch, which turned into breakfast and lunch and dinner. I……. I was starving myself, because my mind was twisted and I thought it was…. helping me- fixing me. So I was sick for a while, but I got help and I’m better now. I’m fine.”

Patrick tried to smile in a convincing way, then thought about what he said.

_“I’m fine”_

Always meant “I’m really not fine, at all”

“But you’re not 100% better, Uncle Patrick. You looked like you didn’t want to eat at all during dinner. Isn’t that, doesn’t that mean you still have an eating disorder?”

Bronx asked, cautiously.

Yeah, he was definitely Pete’s kid.

“I- maybe, I guess.”

Patrick admitted, because he couldn’t really lie to Ruby wide eyes, she was too adorable.

And yeah, Patrick knew that he most certainly was in the middle of a relapse.

He wasn’t eating again.

But at the same time Patrick kept to the belief that he was fine.

He hadn’t binged or purged, so maybe he wasn't relapsing.

He hadn’t lied to the kids when he said that his “disorder” was helping him.

Fixing him.

And fuck, now that he said it out loud Patrick knew that the last 7 months of therapy and adult sleep overs and Patrick-sitting would repeat.

“We’re gonna help you get better, Uncle Patrick.”

Ruby declared, then in a confused tone asked.

“How do we do that?”

Patrick chuckled a bit.

Then she turned to Marie and nearly shouted

“Mommy! We can make cookies! Cookies make everything better!”

And just like that Patrick froze again.

Marie (and everyone else) noticed and said softly.

“I don’t think cookies are the best thing for Uncle Patrick right now, hmm, think about what he said.”

Ruby thought hard, sticking her tongue out to remember.

“Oh”

She whispered.

“Sorry Uncle Patrick”

She apologized.

Patrick swallowed again, it was too hot in here.

“It’s okay Ruby.”

He was nauseous.

And he really just wanted everyone to leave him alone.

So he could go upstairs.

~~And stare into the mirror.~~

"How about instead of that we just come over and see Uncle Patrick more often? Would that be okay?"

Marie asked calmly and Patrick was sure she was dressing both her daughter and him.

"Can we!?"

Bronx chimed in.

"Please!?"

Everyone turned towards Patrick again.

He was having some trouble focusing and it took him 3 tries to answer.

"Yeah, that be great kids."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending was kinda blah....


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DesolationCrow on Chapter 36 Sat 15 Aug 2015 07:52PM EDT  
> This chapter was great. Maybe in the next chapter Patrick could end up fainting again but for longer and when either Pete, Andy, or Joe (your choice) come over to his house they find him passed out in the hallway, and then whatever happens after that is up to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been awhile.... like 16 days... half a month?  
> I'm back at school now, so idk if I'm actually going to be writing much.  
> (probably will, I'm a huge procrastinator)  
> um next chapter will be Musiclover's suggestion with Brenden.  
> Feel free to suggest what I should write next...  
> I actually love it, because I can't think of ideas lately and once I get like a prompt in my head something usually comes to me magically like WHAM!  
> so enjoy...

A week after.

 

Patrick honestly couldn't believe that no one had confronted him after the 'dinner party child disaster' thing. 

He knew that they all- Pete, Joe, Andy, Meagan, Marie- ~~knew that he was~~ thought that he was "relapsing".

He wasn't.

Sure it may seem like he was, but he wasn't.

The voices weren't.... okay they were bad, but not as bad as they had been when he was totally out of control/under their control.

So he ~~was~~ wasn't in the midst of a relapse.

Even if he wasn't eating.

And throwing up what he did eat.

...and maybe there were a few (so, so many) new cuts on his thighs/hips/ankles/arms/everywhere.

He wasn't relapsing.

He was fine.

So what if he was beginning to feel like he was drowning.

So what if he spaced out too often thinking about death, or stick thin bodies, or blood?

Patrick Stump was fine.  


 

_'God dammit!'_

Patrick mentally berated himself as he lost his balance yet again, body swaying dangerously as he trudged upstairs.

He finally made it to the top and leaned against the wall as he made his way to his bedroom.

He was meeting the guys for lunch today, and after they all were going to the studio to work a bit on a new, (maybe a bonus) track. 

But that was hours away.

Pete was going to swing over to pick him up around 1, since his car was in the dealership getting a routine check up/ oil change.

It was currently 3 a.m.

( ~~Maybe~~ he wasn't sleeping ~~well~~ at all recently too)

Patrick had plenty of time for another round or two of his 'small and quick' exercises.

Hopefully they would negate the inevitable calories.

Even if he threw everything up (not likely with the guys around) he would have still have roughly half of lunch's calories in him.

Making him fat ~~ter.~~

Patrick shrugged on another hoodie (he was already wearing 2 long sleeve shirts, a cardigan, and an oversized hoodie he stole sometime from Pete, or Joe).

Once that was on Patrick began.

He decided to start off with a 100 jumping jacks.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

.....

14.

1-------

_'Breathe! Breathe!! fucking breathe!'_

Patrick thought desperately.

_15_

Patrick barely made finished the jumping jack before his body gave out and he crashed onto the carpeted floor.

* * *

 

"Pa----"

"Patrick!!!!"

"Patrick! WAKE U----"

"JOE!? I don't know what to do!! He's not.... wait I think he's waking up...."

Patrick felt sick.

And thirsty.

~~And hungry.~~

"argh"

He tried to get up.

Tried to do something over than open his eyes only to squeeze them shut because IT HURT!

But something was pushing him down, keeping him horizontal.

Something being Pete Wentz, Patrick found out by opening his eyes despite his nauseousness.

"Pete"

_shit, his voice was raspy as fuck, kinda sounded like death._

Patrick thought.

Then he thought about death.

But stopped because he realized Pete was crying.

"Pete"

He tried again.

"You 'k?"

Pete laughed, but it sounded more like he was choking.

"'Trick, I'm fucking **FINE**! I mean I'm still freaking out because I came upstairs and found you on the floor and thought you KILLED YOURSELF! I'm just fine."

Patrick winced at his friend's yelling.

He didn't know---- he hadn't tried to--- the last thing he remembered was......

The last thing he remembered was... exercising!  

"You're not supposed to be exercising alone Patrick"

Pete whispered.

 _'_ oops _'_

"Yeah 'oops'"

Pete said almost harshly.

"Do you think you can sit up?"

Patrick nodded.

And that hurt.

But he wanted to show Pete he was fine.

So he let Pete drag his limp, hurting body up into a sitting position, resting against his bed.

"Joe and Andy are on their way."

Pete leaned back against the bed next to Patrick.

Patrick in turn leaned against him and rested his head on Pete's shoulder.

"You scared me 'trick. You've got me so worried. Like all the time. I just want you to be okay. I want you to be happy. You know?"

Pete sounded tired, drained.

Patrick felt guilty, ~~and hungry.~~

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. I.... Petey Pie, I'm sorry. I'm just.... I really don't mean to be like this. I don't want to...."

Patrick quietly confessed then hid his face in Pete's neck. 

Pete sighed.

"I know, Patrick. I know."

Things were quiet for some time.

Patrick tried to will his headache away, hiding from the world with the help of Pete's neck and warmth.

Pete breathed in and out steadily, listening to his best friend breathing and feeling his heartbeat against his skin, knowing that Patrick was still alive.

The front door slammed open and the sound of two men (or baby elephants) coming up the stairs startled both Pete and Patrick.

"Is he--"

Joe began as he and Andy burst into the room. 

"PATRICK!" 

Joe shouted before rushing to the two on the floor.

"Hey Joe." 

Patrick whispered, hiding partially behind Pete.

"Are you okay!?"

Joe knelt down and searched Patrick's face for any sign of... anything, and Andy walked over and sat by Patrick's right.

"I'm--- I have a small headache."

Patrick thought that his friends wouldn't buy or like him saying he was 'fine'.

"Um, well, you shouldn't have any medicine if you have like a concussion, I think.... maybe. But how about some food? Have you.. Did you eat?"

Joe sat down in front of Patrick. 

Patrick guiltily buried his face into Pete's neck again and shook his head 'no'.

One of them groaned.

_'shit, I fucked up again'_

Patrick thought wearingly.

"I'll get something from the kitchen."

Andy offered standing up.

"You're... um... there's not much there"

Patrick cringed as he said that.

Pete sighed again.

"Okay. I'll find something."

Andy said, trying to keep calm and make his voice cheerful.

It didn't work.

Patrick felt like his stomach was eating itself and that his heart and mind were being consumed by his guilt.

His stomach growled as if to prove it's auto-cannibalism.

"Right."

Andy headed downstairs.

"Can we lay down on the bed?"

Patrick asked, trying not to sound pitiful or desperate.

"All three of us?" 

Pete asked, already moving up slowly.

"Mhmm"

Patrick hummed and smiled softly when Joe helped him onto the bed.

"Cuddles?"

Pete asked.

"Please?"

Patrick pulled Joe down next to him and sighed softly when Pete curled up against him.

Patrick felt kinda warm between his two friends, an uncommon occurrence as of late. 

Andy quickly came back upstairs, a peanut butter sandwich in his hands.

"You were out of fruit and your milk was expired"

He told Patrick, climbing cautiously onto the bed.

Patrick nodded slightly and sat up stiffly against the headboard.

He reached out and took the sandwich from Andy and promptly took a tiny nibble out of the corner. 

Patrick would have prefered ~~nothing~~ the crust off, but he wasn't going to complain.

Slowly, really fucking slowly, Patrick finished the sandwich.

He wiped his mouth against the sleeve of his layered hoodie and laid back down, mindful of his belly and friends' limbs.

No one talked for awhile, though Patrick thought the guys were communicating somehow.

"Patrick?"

"mmmm, yeah Pete?"

"I know that we had, a while ago, discussed how we should... um leav-- giving you space and trusting you and..."

Pete trailed off, gesturing emptily in the air. 

"I think what Pete's trying to say is..."

Joestarted

"That it's been a long time, like half a year, since well when you fainted on stage and everything kinda came to light, and look we trusted you, and you relapsed, let's not beat around the bush, that's what's been going on, you've relapsed and probably have for awhile. And we should have said something a week ago, but we were giving you time and space and like the benefit of the doubt and all, and I'm sorta pissed right now- not at you but at myself and the situation. So we want to start, what you so lovingly called "Patrick sitting" again. It could be us rotating who stays over or you could stay with one of us or something."

Patrick gulped.

He knew- HE FUCKING KNEW! that this would happen.

He had called that a week ago. 

So he wasn't surprised.

But it still hurt. 

And it still made him feel trapped.

And out-of-control.

And...

"Okay, yeah I um I guess I expected that, and I deserve that, and um, but um I um I don't want to well inconvenience you guys or----"

"Stop that right now, no, just, no no no. Patrick you are never ever EVER an inconvenience or a waste of time or space or jesus you're my best friend. And if I have to live in your fucking refrigerator to make you healthy and happy and just ARGH! I will, don't test me, I will!"

Pete interrupted.

Patrick froze in a sort of mini-panic.

"ah... okay Pete, so I.. I think that if um... you can... should... may, stay over... with me....?"

Pete grinned broadly, Joe pulled him into a one-armed hug and Andy shot him a small smile.

"Good, well first we still should take you to the doctor's and make you an emergency appointment your therapist and psychologist and all, but I'll stay over tonight- Meagan's abroad for a shoot and Bronx is with Ashlee and Saint is actually staying at my parent's because he has colic and my mom is a miracle worker so...."

Patrick nodded, and his trapped feeling lessened as he laughed softly when Pete joined the hug, and Andy too.

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musiclover on Chapter 36 Sun 16 Aug 2015 08:12AM AEST
> 
> This cheaper was cute. :) maybe you could do a chapter where brendon goes to check on Patrick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so fun fact, i was going over the earlier chapters and I was totally planning on Andy/Patrick in the 3rd chapter. Also I feel bad that Elisa isn't in the fic, kinda, a little, not really. I don't think I could write her very well. Anyway leave more comments/ideas! and thanks!

Fall Out Boy was going on tour again.

In two days.

Patrick was ecstatic. 

And nervous.

Mostly excited, though.

Currently, he was in the kitchen humming loudly while stirring a pot of mac'n'cheese.

It was for him and the kids for lunch.

Ever since 10 weeks ago when he told Bronx and Ruby (and Saint- but he is a baby) about his.....

About his eating disorder (but not about the other shit) the children often came over with Pete and/or Meagan or Joe and/or Marie for lunches.

And the two older children would often get Patrick and the other adults to play video games, cards, a board game, or something after.

This particular lunch it was just Patrick with the 3 kids.

Since tour started soon the two loving couples needed the time together (alone together).

Bronx, his brother, and Ruby were in the living room.

Patrick had left them with Bronx on the xbox, Saint in his portable playpen, and Ruby asleep with her stuffed bear.

Soon the food was ready so Patrick poured it into 4 bowls.

(His portion was almost- _almost_ a normal adult portion)

And Saint's was just a small handful.

Patrick opened his mouth to tell Bronx lunch was ready when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" 

Patrick yelled, making his way to the door through the living room.

"Bronx, lunch is ready, can you wake up Ruby? I'll get Saint after I answer the door."

"Sure, Uncle 'Trick. Ruby, wake up, wake up?"

Patrick made it to the door and opened it.

To see Brendon.

"Hey!?" 

Patrick welcomed Brendon in giving him a one armed hug before closing the door.

"What's up? What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to say hi, I was in the city and I heard you got stuck babysitting."

"Okay, well, hey we're just sitting down for lunch, it's macaroni if you want some there's plenty. I mean you may cheat Bronx out of his 3rd or 4th helping, but there's going to be ice cream too, so he'll be alright."

Patrick smiled brightly.

"Awesome, never say no to free food, man."

"Head to the kitchen, I have to get Saint."

"Got it"

Patrick went into the nearly empty living room, picked up the t.v. remote and turned off the screen that Bronx left on, then walked over to the small playpen in the corner.

Saint was standing in the corner, gripping the edge with one hand while the other was getting wet in his mouth.

"C'mon big guy."

Patrick picked up Saint carefully, he was getting sort of heavy.

When Patrick finally made it back into the kitchen Bronx was almost done with his 1st bowl, Ruby looked like she was about to fall asleep face down in her mac'n'cheese and Brendon was talking a mile a minute to the 2 kids who weren't paying attention one bit.

Patrick moved around to the other side of the counter and grabbed Saint's booster seat, placed it down on the chair beside his and buckled Saint in.

He grabbed the 2 bowls and placed one in front of Saint.

"Here you go, buddy."

Then Patrick sat down and hesitated only slightly before he took his first bite.

"How's Sarah?"

Patrick asked after a few bites, to give himself room to breathe.

"Great actually, we just spent a couple days on a small cruise, it was very relaxing."

"Really, that's cool, I've never been on a cruise."

Patrick picked up his fork again and ate.

"I have"

Bronx said, plainly, as he slipped out of his chair to get more food.

"When was this?"

Patrick asked and quietly thanked Brendon who had gotten up to help Bronx.

"It was with Mom. After the _divorce_ stuff."

Bronx said the word divorce like it had killed his puppy or something.

"Oh"

"Was it a nice trip"

Brendon sat back down after Bronx.

Patrick set his fork down again.

"I'm not hungry, Uncle Patrick."

Ruby whined.

Patrick looked over at her bowl.

"Can you finish at least half of it?"

Ruby pouted.

"Not. Hungry. Tired."

She yawned widely.

"Okay, we'll save it for later, why don't you go upstairs to the spare room and get some sleep before Joe picks you up?"

Ruby smiled tiredly, teeth gleaming.

"Thanks, you're the best Unca Patrick"

Ruby slinked out of the room, dragging her bear along with her.

"I can finish hers."

Bronx offered.

His brother laughed shrilly and flung a noodle at Patrick, then laughed again.

Patrick chuckled (felt disgusted) and picked the noodle off of his cheek.

"No, leave some room for dessert, I bought ice cream."

"Ice cream!!!! what kind!?"

Bronx cheered.

"Yeah, is it chocolate."

Brendon asked, laughing.

"Chocolate Cupcake"

Patrick said, then stood up and took his, Saints, Bronx, and Brendon's empty bowls and silverware to the sink. 

"So two bowls?"

Patrick asked, opening the freezer. 

"Aren't you going to have some?" 

Brendon asked.

"Yeah, Uncle Patrick?"

Bronx echoed.

_'shit'_

Patrick thought, panicking. 

Since he's recovering he should be eating ice cream, especially since it was something his therapist and he were working on.

But he had had a (small) slice of key lime pie yesterday.

_'fuck'_

"Yeah, I'm having a bowl."

Patrick said, cursing on the inside.

_'Do you know how many CALORIES are in a bowl of ice cream!!!!'_

But Patrick got 3 bowls out and began to scoop chocolate ice cream into them.

He looked up and saw Brendon smiling widely at him.

He wondered briefly if that question- Aren't you going to have some?- was something Brendon had asked a lot with Ryan.

He decided that it most likely was.

"Here you to go."

Patrick served them and sat back down with his own bowl.

"So Brendon, when are you releasing 'Death of a Bachelor'- officially?"

Patrick asked.

......

 

* * *

 

 

A half hour later Patrick stood just outside his front door, saying goodbye to Brendon. 

"So, I'll see you around sometime?"

Brendon nodded, smiling.

"You know I'm really happy that you're getting better."

Patrick held his breath.

"You just look so much more lively."

Patrick let it out.

"Thanks B' I feel more alive, too, I guess. Drive safe?"

Brendon smiled widely, gave a half hearted salute, then turned around and got in his car.

Patrick stayed and waved him off until he drove around the corner, out of sight.

Then he walked back inside, knowing that Bronx wanted to play Go Fish with him.

.....


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen_Idle left the following comment on Bits and Pieces 2015-09-01 04:19:35 -0400
> 
> Love the chapter. I was thinking maybe you could have a chapter where Pete and Patrick have a chat, with Pete talking about how he felt during his depression and suicide attempt and how he is scared for Patrick. Pretty much angst for both Pete and Patrick.
> 
>  

By 3pm the guys were all packed, both buses had been loaded, and all four of them were on Patrick/Andy's bus talking jovially.

As the time passed and the band got further and further away from home, the conversations died down into a soft comfortable silence that was only broken with comments about how Joe was playing GTA5.

Andy had headed to the front of the bus to read in relative peace.

Patrick was sitting with Pete, curled up in the furthest corner of the back room, only half watching the screen.

Pete's head was in Patrick's lap, cushioned from his bony legs/hips by a pillow.

Patrick played with his friends hair, lost in his own head.

Pete noticed, of course he did.

"Hey 'Trick?"

Patrick broke out of his spiralling thoughts, of weight and fans, and _~~dear god he's gotten fat again.~~_

"Yeah Pete? what's up?"

Pete turned over so he could look up at Patrick.

"Can we talk?"

Patrick was confused and scrunched his eyebrows down.

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

 Patrick tried to move so Pete could sit up.

(get him away from his fat, fat stomach)

But Pete wasn't moving.

"What's on my mind? Yours."

Pete was staring at Patrick's face.

"What?"

"I'm scared, alright?"

"Why are you scared, Panda?"

"Do you remember how I was back in late 2004 and the beginning of 2005?"

Of course Patrick remembered, and he asked cautiously just to make sure they were on the track.

"Are we talking about.... The 'Best Buy Incident'? "

Patrick really didn't know how to put it, he really didn't want to say 'suicide attempt' or 'when you tried to kill yourself?'.

"Yeah"

Patrick didn't like where this was going, but if Pete wanted to talk about it then Patrick would listen.

"Okay?"

"I never really explained what was going on with me that made me do that, did I?"

"No, and I wasn't really around to listen."

"Everything was just piling up, it was I don't know too much, and it just...... I felt alone, and frustrated, mostly at myself, my mind- my disorder, I felt sad- almost always, but I also thought I shouldn't-couldn't be sad, ya know? That I didn't deserve to be. I just felt hopeless and sad, and guilty that I was sad, because my life was at a really great point, like the band was taking off and everything, and that made me angry- irrationally angry at myself and at anything- at even the smallest mistake I made. It all just piled up. Until one night I drove around with a bottle of pills and just parked somewhere quiet, somewhere I was sure I'd be undisturbed. I was so tired. But it wasn't the normal kind of tired that would be fixed if I could just get a good night's sleep. I was exhausted that night, and.... finally sure of something, the first time in like months. And then I took the pills."

Patrick looked down at his best friend, tears in his eyes. 

"I guess I just- I wanted to tell you, I just- I'm alright now, 'trick, I swear- but just looking at you and how far you've come, but how much more you have to go, it just reminds me of then."

Pete pursed his lips, like he wanted to say more- he eventually did.

"Wha-- was... Is it like that for you? Or, um,..."

Pete, surprisingly, couldn't find the words.

"Pete, I-- I can't believe I didn't see what was going on back then, but I guess I can, I mean- I'm me."

"Hey!- No, don't go there. Besides I can say the same, I didn't notice, I wasn't there for you."

"Pete, I.... I guess I felt the same- in some ways. I felt alone, we had just broken up, all the sudden my 3 best friends were gone. And yeah I was mad- I was furious with myself. Ishut myself off from the world until I-- my mind thought I looked 'decent' enough to actually socialize. And it wasn't an immediate thing- not-eating. Hell, the first week, after everything I just stayed home, and ate everything in the house- my first binge. I don't.... it wasn't intentional, the first time, the first time I.... purged. It.... I didn't do anything for the longest time, January 2010 I think. I just slept and cleaned and.... I guess looking back at the first months-- like looking back now, I don't know how I'm alive. I had no motivation except for my not-eating. I lay in bed and couldn't sleep, or I slept for 2 days at a time. It wasn't-- until later, like with Soul Punk and it's bad reviews, it wasn't like a way for me.... I didn't want to die at the beginning, that came later"

Pete scrambled off his lap.

And Patrick's mind went

_ 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, shouldn't have said that, he's leaving you, shit' _

But Pete turned around and hugged him tight.

"Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare, okay... think about how you felt after I was in the hospital. Don't do that to me, don't make Joe and Andy go through that again. Trick, I'm scared because I know what those thoughts can do to you, what you said in the hospital- about feeling exhausted and wished you hadn't woken up. Patrick it scares me, because I can't lose you."

Patrick hugged back, crying slightly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Pete"


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Name on Chapter 38 Thu 03 Sep 2015 11:05AM PDT  
> This chapter was great! (: Um, I was thinking maybe the next chapter could be something like since you were talking about them going on tour again in this chapter, that Patrick starts thinking about the weight he's put back on and how he thinks the fan will notice, and how he doesn't have much time to lose it, and has like a panic attack or something like that while the kids are over which in term freaks them out because they don't know what's going on?

Patrick had just put Saint down for a nap.

The little guy lay peacefully in the middle of the guest room bed.

He was surrounded by pillows all around.

Patrick slumped down quietly on the bed too.

He could faintly hear Bronx and Ruby downstairs.

He wasn’t entirely sure, but Patrick thought that they were playing ‘princesses’.

Patrick was tired.

Joe had left him alone with the 3 kids after he got a ‘worrying’ text from his wife.

* * *

 

As Patrick lay there, face down on the comforter he began to think.

Tour was starting in a few weeks.

He had been given the ‘go-ahead’ by all of his doctors.

Somehow _(by being weak and greedy)_ Patrick had managed to get to and maintain a healthy weight.

121lbs.

**_FAT_ **

And Patrick’s dietitian just had to remind him at his last appointment, that ‘he still had some weight to put on’

Even if he had a good, healthy bmi.

In the quiet room his mind had time to think.

Nasty thoughts that bounced around in his head.

He just wanted to sleep.

_‘Too fat, too fat, grotesque, ugly, revolting, **WORTHLESS PEICE OF SHIT’**_

He wasn’t going to sleep.

 

Patrick turned so he was on his back, his hands coming to rest on his stomach.

It was undeniably bigger.

Anyone, with or without, a disordered mind could see that.

It was squishy and pudgy ~~and fat, fat, fat.~~

 

Tour was starting soon.

Which meant that Patrick would be in the spotlight again.

No more hiding in his house, or underneath one of his hats.

He was going on tour, and he would have to be up on stage in front of so many fans.

He loved his job, and the band, and singing.

But, Patrick couldn’t help but think what the fans would think.

He knew that his weight loss during Soul Punk had inspired others.

But he had gained it all back (not all, but still).

He was a liar, a disappointment, a joke.

Wasn’t he supposed to be a role model or whatever.

He sure as hell wasn’t a good one, though.

Leave that to Joe, Andy, and Pete.

They had their lives together.

They weren’t disappointments.

 

As Patrick lay there, it all just got louder and louder and louder.

He gained too much back.

He was fat again.

The fans.

_Lose it._

_Get rid of it._

How?

_Starve._

_Purge._

**_GET RID OF IT!_ **

But it’s too late.

Tours coming up.

_The fans._

I can’t lose enough in this short amount of time.

It’s not healthy.

_Since when was any of this healthy._

Just have to be strong.

No sin shall pass my lips.

As soon as the kids go home, empty out the refrigerator.

Dump all of the pantry in the trash.

Tomorrow morning- every morning go for a run, don’t come back until you feel like dying.

But there’s no time!

**FAT.**

The fans.

I - I---- can’t breathe.

_shit shit shit_

no I---

I---

“Uncle Patrick!”

Patrick’s eyes flew open.

“Bronx”

Patrick tried, but couldn’t say anything.

He was slightly aware that he was shaking.

And at some point had brought his knees up to his chest and was rocking a tad.

But he couldn’t really concentrate.

Everything was blurry.

He felt hot and sweaty and sick.

Nauseous and out of control.

**Out-of-control.**

Patrick tried to focus on something, anything.

Bronx was saying something.

Patrick couldn’t understand a word.

Ruby and Bronx both looked scared.

But Patrick couldn’t focus on them very long.

His vision was blacking out.

He felt like he was going to faint.

_(Strange, seeing that he’s fainted before and it never felt this bad.)_

Ruby scooted closer to Patrick and reached down to give him a hug.

“No!”

Patrick’s voice was shaky and scared.

He quickly backed away from Ruby and Bronx, miraculously not kicking Saint by accident.

**Wrong Wrong Wrong!**

Everything felt off and wrong and uncomfortable.

“Should I call my dad, uncle Patrick?”

Bronx asked, keeping his distance.

Patrick vehemently shook his head.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

Can’t tell Pete.

_Idiot._

_Worthless._

Patrick didn’t realize his inner dialogue was becoming his outer dialogue.

 

Bronx picked up his brother, who had just woken up, and whispered to Ruby.

“Just watch him, don’t touch, okay? I’m going to call my dad.”

Ruby stayed at the bottom of the bed, humming just loud enough to fill the room, drowning out Patrick’s whimpers.  

* * *

  
  


Bronx came back upstairs, putting Saint from his hip to the bed again.

He crawled slowly to Patrick.

When he was close enough he held out the phone, urging Patrick to take it.

Patrick's hand was shaking, but he brought the phone to his ear.

"H-h-hello?"

Voice too quiet, too weak.

"Patrick? Hey buddy, it's Pete, okay? How are you feeling?"

"Blurry"

Patrick whispered.

"Yeah, how's your breathing?"

"Hard"

"Okay breath in slowly, hold it for 3 seconds, then let it out slowly. Okay?"

In. Hold 1-2-3. Out.

In. Hold 1-2-3. Out.

"Patrick, I'm going to ask you some simple questions, is that okay."

Patrick nodded, still counting his breaths, then whispered 

"yeah"

"Who's in the room with you?"

"kids"

"What are their names?"

"Bronx, Ruby, S-saint"

"Good, Patrick what room are you in?"

"guest"

"Where in the room are you?"

"bed."

Patrick's breathing was easier now, things seemed less blurry.

"good, listen Joe's on his way, he's like 3 minutes out, I want you to stay on the phone until he gets there, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, um... I'm, I'm feeling better now."

"That's great, do you... nevermind Joe can ask that. Stretch out your legs, okay, I know you were curled up."

"Okay"

Patrick stretched his legs and sat up straighter.

"Pete? I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize, nothing to be sorry for." 

"I-I know"

Patrick heard the front door open.

"Guys!?"

Ruby squealed, "Daddy!"

Joe trudged up the stairs, two at a time.

"Hey, sweetheart."

He picked up his daughter.

"Patrick?"

Patrick hung up the phone.

"I'm better now Joe, but maybe the kids should go home. I think I scared them."

Bronx nodded slightly.

"Worried, not scared. I'm not scared of nothing!"

"Sure buddy, your dad's on his way over, but I'm going to take you home to Meagan, and then she's going to get you to your mom's, got it."

"Yep, come on Ruby, let's get the toys."

The two eldest kids rushed downstairs, leaving Patrick with Joe and Saint.

"You sure you're okay now?"

"Just tired, now."

"Okay, Pete's probably going to stay the night, is that okay?"

Not like Patrick could stop him.

"Yeah, sure"

_No, remember the plans?_

Fuck the plans, nothing's going to work until the guys think I'm okay.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SmolBean left the following comment on Bits and Pieces:
> 
> Wow, I loved this chapter. Maybe for the next one Patrick could try to kill himself (OD) but Pete finds him in time and forces him to throw up the pills before they can do too much damage and then they have to deal with the aftermath of that. So like they don't have to go to the hospital or anything but have lots of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 1

Was he really doing this, again?

He was Recovering, god dammit!

Nothing sharp had met his bare skin in months. 

Not that it mattered.

He was worthless.

Disgusting.

Dead-weight.

He was just dragging everyone down.

And he ~~couldn't~~ wouldn't do that to his friends, or his family any longer.

He was going to die.

And then, they wouldn't have to worry about him.

Afterwards they would be free to live their lives.

* * *

 

Was he really doing this again?

He had been clean for a long time (7 weeks 4 days).

The scars were fading.

Was he going to do this???

No- Yes, but not like this.

Another way, less messy.

He owed the guys that (and so much more).

Because this- doing this- was to stop being ~~alive~~ a burden to Andy and Pete and Joe and his mom and everyone.

Easy, quick, painless (he deserved the pain), clean.

_But what, but how?_

Rope.

_No, where would we do it._

_No, too many ways that it would fail._

Run into traffic. 

_Messy!_

_It may not work, probably won't._

Starve.

_We tried that, they'll catch on and stop us before we even lose 10 lbs._

**Pills.**

**...**

Not messy.

Easy. 

Too much zoloft can kill you, right?

Yes. Yes. Yes. 

Do it. 

Now?

Yes!

Pete's going to be back soon, said we were doing dinner. 

Text him.

Say later.

Get more time.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

Die. 

_**Tonight.** _

* * *

 

 

Patrick put down the blade, placing it gently on the bathroom sink.

Then he walked out to the main room of the hotel.

His phone was on the desk, charging (not that it needs to now).

Patrick picked it up, unlocked it and texted Pete.

_\--What time did you want to get dinner?--_

He set it down and opened his laptop.

He should write a note, an apology, something.

Something to tie up loose ends.

He opened a blank Word document...

_To Everyone,_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'm sorry I wasn't happy with the life I have had. I'm sorry you had to deal with me for so long. I should have done this sooner, a long time ago, when I turned 21. That was the plan. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasted all of your time. I'm sorry I put you through so much shit. I'm sorry. You shouldn't blame yourselves. Please don't. I'm sorry that I made it seem like I was getting better- that I was recovering. I guess I was, for a bit. But then it came back. I just felt so empty. I'm meaningless and worthless. You probably won't miss me. But I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Sorry and Goodbye._

_Goodbye Mom, I know you always loved me. And I've always loved you. This isn't your fault. Take care of yourself._

_Goodbye Kevin, you're my brother and we haven't been that close in the past couple years, but when I was younger you were my best friend and my hero. You're strong, stronger than me, take care of Mom and Megan. I love you._

_Goodbye Megan. I love you, you were always the perfect big sister, and I'm sorry I was such a brat of a little brother. You don't have to worry about me anymore though. Take care of yourself, sister._

_Goodbye Pete, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm too weak. I'm sorry I lied to you- right up to the end. I'm sorry, because I had told you before, recently, "I'm not going anywhere, Pete" and now I'm gone. I'm sorry, don't blame yourself. You shouldn't miss me. Forget about me. Don't do anything stupid, don't do this. I love you, be strong for your family, Pete, they love you._

_Goodbye Joe, I'm sorry, I have you to thank for almost every good thing that's happened to me. You're the one who got me into this crazy band. Essentially you saved me, I didn't die at 21 because of you and Pete and Andy and the band. Joe, this isn't your fault. I'm sorry, I love you, give your daughter a kiss for me._

_Goodbye Andy, I'm sorry. So very sorry. I'm selfish, but not too selfish to think that this won't effect anyone. Even if I don't deserve life, or the friendship we have, you've always been able to make me smile, at least a bit. Be strong, Andrew. I love you._

_Goodbye Everyone._

 

_Formerly,_

_Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump(h)_

 

Patrick saved it and left it open on his screen.

He checked his phone, that had just buzzed a second ago.

_\--hb nw n 5 min???????--_

_\--I need to take a shower first, give me an like an hour, okay?--_

_\--suR tng, pattycakes :) :)--_

Patrick put down his phone with shaky hands, then went to his bag on the chair beside the bed.

He unzipped the side pocket, grabbing the pill bottle.

He sat down on the bed and opened the bottle, pouring all the pills into his right hand.

He tossed the empty bottle across the room.

It bounced and landed by the door.

Patrick had just gotten a refill 2 days ago. 

24 tiny capsules.

That should be enough. 

Patrick picked up one with his left hand and examined it. 

He placed it back with the others and grabbed the water on the bedside table. 

He popped a few pills in his mouth then swallowed them down with water.

And again.

And again.

And again. 

Until he was out of pills.

How long would it take.

Patrick felt relatively calm as he lay down.

He wasn't overly sad.

And he wasn't regretting anything.

He felt disconnected. 

Dissociation. 

His phone buzzed.

Patrick closed his eyes.

It didn't matter anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of chapter 41.  
> I doubt that if this was in real life Patrick would be allowed to NOT go to the hospital, but that was what was asked, and I don't want to write a hospital scene again. After I finish this and the next part I'm going to try and do Magui's sentimental relationship idea, then Brennalee6296's idea as a time skip into the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2

Time was moving slowly, too slowly.

Patrick had taken the pills, laid down on the bed, now it was time for him to be dead.

Patrick wanted the time to go faster.

So no one would find him in this between state.

Not dead.

Not living.

He didn't want to end up in a coma.

That would be worse than his life now- not that his life was bad.

Patrick wished that it would go by faster, because now his mind was bouncing around and he was unsure of himself.

He thought of his mom and siblings.

Megan's birthday was coming up soon, he had promised to fly her to Paris while they were there on tour. 

Sorry Megan.

He thought about Pete, then he thought about how Pete looked in the beginning of 2005 and Patrick compared that Pete to his Pete now.

It does get better.

Did he really want to die?

Patrick couldn't lift his head, couldn't move his hands.

_'No! No! I don't want to die! I don't! I thought I did, but I don't'_

Patrick yelled but it came out more like:

"nnnnn i oooontt wann a die I ont I fought iiii b bt I ooooooht"

 But no one was around to hear him.

Patrick's phone buzzed again, and this time he tried to grab it.

If he thought time was moving slow before, now he was stuck in slow motion, he felt like he was under water or stuck in jello.

He managed to reach his phone, eyesight blurring, but whoever had called was gone.

Patrick opened it and somehow unlocked it.

"Call Pete" 

He had to put so much effort into enunciating it.

"Hey, Trick- sorry I called twice I thought I had left that book I was reading in your room, but I found it, are we still good for dinner?"

"Ppppppeettt I-- mistakkkkke pleaz halp" 

"Trick!? shit hey talk to me buddy, talk to me."

Patrick tried but it was all so cold, he felt so alone, he was dying. 

The hotel room door opened with a bang.

"Trickster?" 

Pete bounded over to the bed.

"Trick, Trick, Tricky what did you do, what did you take, did you cut?"

Patrick flopped his arm to point to the empty pill bottle. 

"Shit, okay Patrick, up we're getting up."

Pete pulled him and carried him bridal style to the bathroom.

"You're still so fucking light, Trick." 

Pete muttered before setting him on the floor.

"Okay, Patrick we need to get the pills out of you, okay."

Patrick felt weak and terrified, he nodded as best he could.

Pete took a big breath and motioned to the toilet.

Patrick's eyes widened. 

'oh'

He crawled to the toilet and brought his fingers to his mouth. 

It wasn't hard to do. 

The amount of water he took with the pills made it easy.

Though Patrick didn't stop until he saw bits of what he had for lunch come up.

He pulled a wad of toilet paper and wiped his hand and mouth, then threw it in the toilet and leaned back against the wall.

An overwhelming sense of impending doom was coiling inside his chest as he glanced over at Pete. 

Patrick had thought about Pete earlier and what he looked like in the weeks/months after his suicide attempt, what he looked like now in the hotel bathroom was pretty similar.

"Pete..."

Thankfully Patrick felt less groggy and more in control of his body. 

"Come on Trick, let's lay down."

Pete picked him up, despite his protests, and carried him to the bed. 

"Lay down, but don't go to bed yet, I'm going to order room service okay?"

Pete was being careful, he didn't want to set Patrick off again.

Patrick nodded and burrowed under the blankets. 

Patrick didn't think about how the room's phone was on the desk by his open laptop. 

He heard Pete talking distantly, but he didn't try and listen.

Patrick was emotionally spent. 

It was really just sinking in.

He had tried to kill himself.

He had even wrote a note.

The note.

Patrick shot up, and saw that Pete was sitting on the edge of the bed with Patrick's laptop in his lap.

"Pete"

Pete set the laptop aside and turned towards Patrick, he crawled up to the top of the bed.

"Trick, Tricky, Trickster. Patrick. Oh, Patrick"

Pete was distraught, he pulled Patrick into a hug.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc...


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 3 (aka last part of this prompt)

Patrick was drifting just on the edge of reality.

His head was in Pete's lap, and Pete's fingers were in his hair.

He should have felt peaceful, but he was instead filled with guilt and anxiety.

He had just tried to kill himself.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

"That's what I want to know Patrick."

Pete sighed.

Patrick tensed up.

He had to blink rapidly so he wouldn't cry.

"I, I don't know."

Pete sighed again.

"Patrick, you wrote a note. You wrote a suicide note, Trick."

Oh yeah, he had, he forgot, how did he forget?

"I'm sorry."

Pete laughed humorlessly.

"Yeah, I know."

Patrick's laptop was open to the side, Patrick could read from where he was what he wrote.

_To Everyone,_

_**I'm sorry. I'm sorry** I wasn't good enough. **I'm sorry** I wasn't happy with the life I have had. **I'm sorry** you had to deal with me for so long. I should have done this sooner, a long time ago, when I turned 21. That was the plan. **I'm sorry. I'm sorry** I wasted all of your time. **I'm sorry** I put you through so much shit. **I'm sorry.** You shouldn't blame yourselves. Please don't. **I'm sorry** that I made it seem like I was getting better- that I was recovering. I guess I was, for a bit. But then it came back. I just felt so empty. I'm meaningless and worthless. You probably won't miss me. But I just wanted to say **I'm sorry. Sorry** and Goodbye. _

_Goodbye Mom, I know you always loved me. And I've always loved you. This isn't your fault. Take care of yourself._

_Goodbye Kevin, you're my brother and we haven't been that close in the past couple years, but when I was younger you were my best friend and my hero. You're strong, stronger than me, take care of Mom and Megan. I love you._

_Goodbye Megan. I love you, you were always the perfect big sister, and **I'm sorry** I was such a brat of a little brother. You don't have to worry about me anymore though. Take care of yourself, sister._  

_Goodbye Pete, **I'm sorry. I'm sorry** I'm too weak. **I'm sorry** I lied to you- right up to the end. **I'm sorry,** because I had told you before, recently, "I'm not going anywhere, Pete" and now I'm gone. **I'm sorry,** don't blame yourself. You shouldn't miss me. Forget about me. Don't do anything stupid, don't do this. I love you, be strong for your family, Pete, they love you._

_Goodbye Joe, **I'm sorry,** I have you to thank for almost every good thing that's happened to me. You're the one who got me into this crazy band. Essentially you saved me, I didn't die at 21 because of you and Pete and Andy and the band. Joe, this isn't your fault. **I'm sorry,** I love you, give your daughter a kiss for me._

_Goodbye Andy, **I'm sorry. So very sorry.** I'm selfish, but not too selfish to think that this won't effect anyone. Even if I don't deserve life, or the friendship we have, you've always been able to make me smile, at least a bit. Be strong, Andrew. I love you._

_Goodbye Everyone._

 

_Formerly,_

_Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump(h)_

 

20 apologies. 

Patrick had written 20 apologies when he planned to die.

20. 

There was a knock on the door.

"I got it, stay here okay? Don't move, I'll be right back." 

Pete gently moved from underneath Patrick. 

Patrick snuggled into the pillows more.

He was crying, slightly.

He had been so, so stupid. 

He was frightened of death.

Why did he try to kill himself?

Because he hadn't wanted to live. 

But that didn't mean he wanted to die.

Because Death was terrifying. 

He didn't want to be here, but....

"Hey, you're thinking too hard 'Trick. I got food, let's eat?

Patrick shook his head, sniffling into the pillow.

"Patrick"

Pete sounded exhausted.

"Why Pete? Why? Why did I want to die? Why don't I want to live? Why am I so fucking fucked up!?"

Patrick wailed, crying more heavily.

"shit"

Pete muttered before moving back on the bed and scooping up Patrick.

"Hey, hey, shoosh, hey, you're okay now, shush shush."

Pete rubbed circles on Patrick's back.

"I just don't want to!"

"Don't want to what, Trick?"

"I don't want to do ANYTHING!"

Pete held tighter.

"oh Patrick"

Pete was tearing up now too.

* * *

Eventually Patrick's tears stopped and he calmed down a bit.

"Okay?"

Pete asked, cautiously.

Patrick nodded and wiped his eyes.

"All right, here hot chocolate."

Pete handed him a small cup, now lukewarm.

Patrick sipped small sips, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

The two sat in silence for some time.

"Patrick, can you tell me what brought this on?"

Patrick bit his lip, shook his head quickly, then nodded slowly.

"Maybe??"

Pete nodded encouragingly.

"Um.... okay so, um"

Patrick tried to think.

"It was earlier this morning."

"Okay."

Pete pushed.

"I- um... I started out thinking um... about just like everything, I guess."

Patrick paused, pursing his lips.

"I-- it got bad again. Like um, my um... my perception and like anxiety and um, just like general sadness, it was just all back and I felt like I was.... drowning. I'm sorry."

Pete pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"So um yeah, this morning I was... I was in the bathroom and I, um... I bought some um, razor blades, right. I mean, um, they're in my bag if you, you c- should take them, you should take those, probably, um definitly, yeah so I was in the bathroom and I was just looking at it, and I haven't cut.... for oh, um... a long time or something, and so I was like 'do I really want to do this?' and I decided that I didn't want to do that to you guys...... I didn't want to leave behind a mess. Um, yeah."

Pete let out a laugh/sob.

"Trick."

Patrick ducked his head, and felt Pete kiss the top of it.

"I know, it's messed up, but so I was um.... I was pretty convinced of the um, the um endgoal so to speak, but I was- I was debating if - well not if, but like how? and I decided to... like um pills. And yeah."

Things were silent again, Patrick finished his hot chocolate.

Pete took it and when he came back asked

"You had texted me before."

Patrick nodded, laying down and snuggling up against Pete.

"But then you called me..."

"yep"

Patrick muttered.

"What made you change your mind."

Patrick pressed himself against his friend giving himself time to answer.

"Um so it was like I don't know, a couple minutes after I took, um, the pills, yeah? and um, I- it was just really slow, time I mean... like it felt like forever and like then my brain started to like ques- doubt it, or like I did and I didn't- I don't want to die, or um like, um, I thought I did, but like I just... I don't want to be alive, but I don't want to be dead. Which makes no sense, I know.... but like death is scary. and.... um so I just didn't want to die, so I called you."

Patrick hid his face under a pillow.

Pete was thinking.

"You should drink more water."

Patrick looked at Pete.

"Okay?"

"Trick, you need to get the leftover medicine out of your system."

"Oh, okay, just water."

"Well, I mean I would love it if you ate something too, but I don't want to push you. How long has it been since you last ate though?"

Patrick griminced.

"Breakfast, um and it was just some fruit, so..."

"How about some soup, I got vegetable rice?"

"Sure"

Patrick shrugged.

Pete nodded and handed him a half-filled bowl.

* * *

They didn't talk as Patrick ate and soon he was finished.

Somehow he was actually hungry.

"Trick?"

"Yeah, Pete"

"I can't lose you, I really can't. Your like... I love you. Like you're my best friend. And I can't.... please Patrick, please you can't leave me, okay. Please."

Pete had rolled onto his side facing Patrick who was laying on his side.

Patrick looked at his distressed friend.

"I won't. I'm sorry Pete, I love you too. I'm sorry I did this, I'm sorry, I should have talked to you or Joe or Andy or my therapist. I swear, on like my um, my hat collection-"

Pete laughed a bit.

"No, um seriously I swear on like my mom's life- I'll talk to someone next time it gets this bad."

Pete nodded and pulled Patrick to his chest, hugging him.

"Okay 'Trick. You're okay, it's okay, everything's gonna be okay, okay? Let's just, can we just lay here for a bit. Um like, please?"

Patrick curled up, resting his head on Pete's chest.

"Sure, Panda. I wanna call my therapist tomorrow morning, okay, don't let me forget.

"I won't, promise"

"Love you, Peter Panda Bear."

"Love you, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how does one write a sentimental relationship?? seriously I wanna write it and it's probs so obvious but like HOW?? anyone?


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magui on Chapters  
> I like your fic a lot, but I'd like to know if Pete and Patrick are going to be together and how Patrick would react to a sentimental relationship because of all of his insecurities (is not necessary that he has this relationship with Pete  
> and  
> Its romantic relationship what i mean. Like with another boy or a girl. I used a wrong traslation of 'relacion sentimental' in Spanish. Sorry.  
> When I said the 'relationship' thing I was asking you if it will appear romantic stuffs here and there...  
> But I think a better idea. I will like to see how Patrick will react to sexual insinuations.  
> For example they go to a bar and there are girls/boys and one of those guys/girls show interest in Patrick ... So How will he react?
> 
> Sorry for my terrible English.  
> Xoxo  
> I love it.<3
> 
> and a bit of...
> 
> Brennalee6296 left the following comment on Bits and Pieces:  
> so good!! but he should like totally get better again, like really better, then fall back into it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> version a
> 
>  
> 
> (version b- I may write one with shipping Andy/Patrick. idk)

Time Skip 1 year

* * *

 

Patrick stood in front of the mirror. 

He picked off some white fuzz that was stuck to his black button up. 

Tonight was Meagan's 27th birthday party.

Pete had been planning it for months.

It was supposed to be a surprise, but Patrick was pretty sure she knew about it since the beginning. 

Patrick grinned at his reflection when he finally got off all the little white specks.

With one last look to straighten his collar Patrick walked downstairs, grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and left for Pete and Meagan's.

* * *

 

Pete, being Pete, had gone all out. 

The place was filled with people. 

After Patrick had said 'Hi' and 'Happy Birthday' to Meagan he made his way around the house, stopping first in the kitchen to get something to nibble on.

Patrick was sitting in the corner of the living room, his plate of assorted cheese nearly finished. 

 "Hey, um is this seat taken?"

Patrick looked up to find a girl looking down at him.

Patrick vaguely recognized her from a photo Meagan had showed them all, of an old photo shoot of hers.

"uh... yeah, I mean, no it's free."

Patrick scooted over, though there was plenty of room.

She giggled, and sat down.

"Thanks. My feet are killing me!"

Patrick glanced at her heels and grimaced in sympathy.

"Melanie"

She stuck her hand out.

"Patrick"

He shook it gently.

"Nice to meet you, Patrick"

She smiled.

Patrick nodded, fidgeting and playing with the remaining cheese cubes.

"I heard that they're bringing out the cake soon, if you're hungry."

Melanie smiled, a little more awkwardly now that there was some silence.

"Are you kidding? You should always have room for cake!"

Patrick laughed, and Melanie joined in.

"That's too true!"

* * *

 

Patrick talked with Melanie as the night went on.

She too was a Prince fan and thought pumpkin pie was the best kind of pie.

As it got later and later more of the party guests started going home.

Around 11:50 there was a comfortable lull in Patrick and Melanie's conversation.

Pete was picking up bits of trash around the living room and Patrick could hear Marie and Meagan laughing in the kitchen.

Joe, Andy, and some others were still in the house.

Melanie leaned closer, with a peculiar look in her eye.

"Do you maybe wanna go to my place?"

And Patrick sort of froze up.

Part of his brain (thankfully the larger part) was saying "Yes!!", because it had been a long time and Melanie was an amazing girl-and very, very attractive. 

But a smaller part of his brain - that housed those awful voices, his self-hate, and bad body-image was unsure because it had been a long time ~~and he had gotten fat and disgusting~~ and she was an actual, real model.

Just as Melanie began to pull back, about to awkwardly apologize- she must have read the situation wrong- Patrick nodded, smiled shyly, and said

"Yeah... Yeah I'd like that."

Trying very hard to shut the voices-that had been pretty quiet for months, but were now YELLING- up in his mind.

* * *

 

After wishing Meagan a final happy birthday Melanie got in the passenger seat of Patrick's car-

"I got a ride over with Kim, and I was just going to get an Uber home"

-and he drove to her condo apartment.

Surprisingly the short drive wasn't awkward and silent since Melanie filled in Patrick's silence with stories of her agency and fellow models.

The story didn't, however, didn't help Patrick with the awful voices, as Melanie casually said 

_"...and I know, for a fact, that Kellie is purging..."_

* * *

 

He didn't have much time to think about it though, because as soon as the front door closed behind them Melanie attached herself to him, kissing him deeply.

He kissed back, hands hesitantly reaching to tangle in her long red hair. 

Melanie quickly removed both of their jackets, knocking off Patrick hat in the process, and stepped out of her shoes.

Melanie broke away, staying close, nose-to-nose.

"Bedroom?"

She asked, her voice low and breathless. 

Patrick nodded.

Melanie went back to kissing him and kicked her shoes towards the wall and led Patrick backwards towards her bedroom.

.................

The pair stood, hungrily making out, by the foot of Melanie's king sized bed.

Patrick's right hand trembled, but snaked it's way from where it was entangled in her hair to her thighs, moving under her dress.

In response Melanie moaned and her hands rucked up his shirt.

Suddenly Patrick stepped back.

Melanie blinked in surprised and swallowed back a groan when Patrick's fingers stopped rubbing her through her underwear.

"What?" 

She asked, not sure what happened.

"Um, my shirt... um I'd... canitstayon?"

Patrick's voice was quiet and scared.

Melanie tilted her head, but nodded- a bit more concerned with continuing on to sex than why Patrick Stump wanted to keep his shirt on during said sex.

Patrick stepped back towards her and gently pushed her down onto her bed.

Melanie lifter her arms and Patrick helped her out of her dress.

Melanie kissed him again enthusiastically and began to undo his belt, finally pushing them down along with his boxers.

Patrick pulled back again.

Melanie looked up again in question.

"I-I- um... sorry."

Patrick mumbled, pulling his pants back up.

"Um... sure, sorry. Um okay??"

Melanie was very confused, and so not in the mood anymore.

Patrick sat down on the corner of the bed.

"It's not you-- god, what I mean is that you're very attractive, um... I- it's me, I guess, I'm...."

Melanie sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener."

Patrick shook his head.

"No, um it's not your problem, I'll just go..." 

He stood and before he could take a step Melanie wrapped a hand around his wrist.

"But maybe you need to talk about it."

Patrick's face scrunched up.

He sighed and sat back down.

"I'm sorry"

"That's okay- you're allowed to say no to sex."

Patrick nodded.

"I just--"

He took in a deep breath.

"I used to have- you can't tell anyone... please."

Melanie nodded.

"I had an... I had an eating disorder... I'm better now, but I'm still not... comfortable? with my body."

"Oh shit."

Melanie swore under her breath before saying louder.

"I'm glad you're better now. I- I can relate... in grades 5-11 I struggled with anorexia, I was hospitalized the end of my junior year."

Patrick nodded.

"I was too, around the end of the Save Rock and Roll tour."

Melanie looked down, not really sure what to say next.

She settled for scooching over and gently hugging Patrick.

"So, um... I'm sorry about tonight."

Melanie shrugged.

"I get. Really, I still have some bad days, even though I've been recovered for years."

Patrick hummed in agreement.

"Well, um I should probably go..."

Melanie didn't let go.

"Nooooo... stay? Just to sleep, and I make some damn good waffles."

Patrick chuckled.

"Yeah, sure... I probably shouldn't drive this late, anyway.

Melanie nodded and got up and went to her walk in closet.

She came out a minute later in an old Green Day shirt and boxer shorts, holding clothes in her hand.

"Here, these should fit... and they'll be a lot more comfortable than what you have on."

Patrick took the clothes. 

"Um"

"Oh! Sorry, I'll let you change."

Melanie headed into her bathroom.

Patrick took off his pants and socks and shirt and changed into the t-shirt and pants Melanie gave him.

Melanie came back out with her hair in a messy bun, make up removed. 

"All yours"

Patrick nodded, went to the bathroom and when he came back he saw that Melanie was already under the covers on the left side.

So Patrick walked over and got in on the right.

Melanie leaned over and kissed him shortly.

"Night, Patrick."

"Good night, Melanie"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write a sex scene but I couldn't and wasn't comfortable with it... you would think I would be with the amount of smut I read, but....  
> I may make it another version.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DesolationCrow on Bits and Pieces 1 day ago  
> I think Patrick and Andy should get together to be completely honest, I think it'd be cute/interesting seeing as almost every fanfic pairs Patrick with either Pete or an OC.
> 
> Magui on Bits and Pieces 1 day ago  
> I think that this cchapter didn't need a sex scene. It was perfect <3  
> PST: Andy + Patrick = <3  
> Pst2: sorry for my English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> version b

Patrick was getting dressed.

He was meeting Andy for dinner in half an hour. 

It had become a thing they did, often.

Andy and him going out to eat.

He had started spending more and more time with Andy.

(Not that he wasn't spending time with Pete or Joe, too.)

As Patrick pulled his t-shirt on he thought back to last week.

_He and Andy had been walking to a local vegan place, when he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk._

_Andy had grabbed his hand to steady him and didn't let go once Patrick had regained his balance._

_Instead Andy had intertwined their fingers together and gently squeezed Patrick's hand and didn't let go as they continued walking._

Patrick smiled into the mirror as he pulled on pants.

_When they finally got to the place the hostess had asked Andy,_

_"Table for two, for you and your boyfriend?"_

_Both of them had blushed._

_Patrick vividly remembered how Andy had licked his lips and agreed._

_"Yeah, table to two, please."_

_He hadn't corrected her about the 'boyfriend' thing._

Patrick put his socks on and smiled to himself, blushing even now.

He had always had a crush on Andy.

Had since the beginning- when it started as hero worship, because he's Andy fucking Hurley.

And it morphed into a full blown crush by the end of their first tour in the van.

Obviously he never said anything about his feelings.

And Patrick just settled for being best friends with Andy.

 

* * *

 

Patrick drove to the restaurant where he was meeting Andy, it was a nicer restaurant, which is why he was wearing black slacks with a white tee and a black suit jacket.

He arrived ten minutes early, but he saw Andy's car and parked next to it.

He got out of his car and locked it.

He was going to head inside when he saw that Andy was still in his own car.

So Patrick walked over to the driver side door and rapped his knuckles on the window.

Andy jumped in his seat, having been intensely staring at the wheel.

Andy blinked and fumbled to get out of the car, Patrick backed up to let him out.

"Hey"

Patrick smiled at the embarrassed blush on Andy's cheek.

He was adorable _(stop it, Patrick!)_

"Hey, Andy, you okay?"

Andy quickly nodded and extended his arm out- gesturing for Patrick to walk. 

Andy grabbed his hand lightly and squeezed it, holding it and swinging their arms as they made it into the restaurant.

Without letting go Andy said. 

"Reservation for Hurley."

The host nodded and smiled brightly.

"Good evening, gentlemen, it will only be a moment"

A young waitress came over.

"Ah, yes, Angela will take you to your table, gentlemen. Enjoy your evening."

Patrick and Andy followed their waitress, hands only parting when Andy pulled out a seat for Patrick.

Once the two of them were seated Angela placed the menus down.

"Hello, my name is Angela, I'll be taking care of you this evening, could I get you started with some drinks."

"I'll take water with lemon, please"

Andy said.

Patrick glanced at the drinks listed.

No soda.

No alcohol. 

He wasn't comfortable with those, yet.

"I'll have the raspberry tea, please."

Angela nodded.

"I'll be right back with those, gentlemen."

She left the two alone, and Patrick studied the menu, noting that there were many vegetarian choices, and that all the meat could be substituted.

Finally deciding on Eggplant Parmesan (not thinking about the calories, really) he put his menu down and looked up to see Andy studying him intently.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Patrick chuckled, reaching up and wiping his nose.

"Oh, no, no. I was just thinking, sorry. So what's been going on for you, Patrick? Anything bold and new?"

Patrick chuckled again, earning a bright smile from Andy.

"No, not really. I've been working on some new stuff- I got a melody stuck in my head the other day, so I had to write it down. Um... my dietitian said that I was um," 

Patrick inhaled.

"That I'm at a good, stable, acceptable weight and we're going to talk about planning an exercise plan, that just... not to lose weight, just... I guess 'tone' my body. So I'm excited about that... I guess."

"That's wonderful Patrick!"

Andy assured him.

Patrick stared at the table before looking up at Andy.

"Thanks Andy. It means a lot. What about you, Andy?"

Andy sat back, tattooed hands folded in front of him on the table.

"Good, I'm good, nothing overly exciting, just the same, which is nice when we're not on tour. Are looking forward to the one coming up?"

Patrick nodded.

Angela appeared and set their drinks in front of them.

"All right, are you ready, or do you need some more time, gentlemen?"

"I'm ready, Patrick?"

"Yes, I'm good."

"Okay"

Angela smiled and took Andy's order first, dan dan noodles along with a marinated kale and chickpea salad with sumac onions, before turning to Patrick and writing down his order. 

She smiled and left saying.

"I'll get this to the kitchen."

Patrick watched her go and when he turned back Andy was looking at him again.

"Okay, seriously is there anything on my face?"

He asked, jokingly.

Andy gave him a small smile.

"No, I'll- I'll tell you after dinner."

* * *

 

After about 20 or so minutes of just talking Angela came back with a tray interuppting Patrick and Andy.

She set the plates down and said.

"Enjoy, I'll be back around to check on you two."

Patrick waited until both he and Andy cleared their plates and they were waiting for Angela to come back around.

"So you were going to tell me something?"

Andy nodded, and took a sip of his water before wiping his (luscious) lips with his cloth napkin. 

He fidgeted some before saying, with his eyes fixed on his plate,

"Yes, ah"

He took a deep breath.

"Patrick. I..."

He paused again looking distressed.

"Hey, you can tell me anything, Andy."

_(because I like you)_

Andy flashed him a thankful smile.

"Okay, I'm just going to say this then, just say it quickly... I like you Patrick."

Andy looked up, semi-fearfully meeting Patrick's gaze.

Patrick blinked, his heart beating wildly.

"I like you too, Andy."

He said.

"No, no, I mean... I like you- like I... like like you, Patrick"

Patrick was more than a little surprised.

Andy motherfucking Hurley liked him. 

"It's okay if you don't, just forget--"

Andy started to apologize but Patrick cut him off.

"You like me? And did you really just say like like? Are we in middle school again?"

Patrick smiled at Andy.

Andy smiled back a little.

"Yes. I like you, but's I understand that you don't, so..."

Patrick's face scrunched up and he said angrily.

"Who said I didn't? I like you Andy. Like I've liked you for awhile. I've had a crush on you since the Take This To Your Grave, Andy."

Now Andy looked shocked.

"You... You like me?"

Patrick huffed. 

"Yes!"

Andy's face lit up with a bright smile.

"Oh"

He giggled.

"Well, good.... So um..."

Just then Angela came back.

"Do you to want dessert?"

She asked, stacking the plates.

Both Patrick and Andy shook their heads no.

"I'd just like the check, please."

Andy said. 

Angela gave it to him and collected their plates, walking quickly to the kitchen and back.

Andy had signed the slip, making sure to include a tip for Angela, and stuck his credit card in.

"Okay, I'll be right back with this."

Angela took it and came back a minute later. 

"Here you go, sir. You two have a wonderful night, now."

Angela smiled and left.

Andy stood, and quickly walked around to pull out Patrick's chair, offering him an arm, and the two walked out to the parking lot.

When they made it two both of their cars, Patrick took a step closer to Andy, so that they were face to face, and stretched up and kissed him lightly.

When he pulled away Andy groaned softly and chased his lips and kissed him back, this time with more force.

Patrick shivered as Andy's arms wrapped around his back, and he brought his up and wrapped them around Andy's neck, fingers playing with his hair. 

Finally the two broke apart breathless.

Patrick leaned in and rested his head on Andy's chest as Andy hugged him close.

"Do you want to watch a movie with me at my house?"

He asked, quietly.

Andy nodded, but didn't let go.

Patrick took another deep breath before stepping back out of Andy's arms.

"I'll meet you there, then."

And he walked to his own car.

* * *

 

Later Patrick unlocked his front door and led Andy inside to the living room.

He shrugged off his jacket and slipped out of his shoes, Andy copying him.

When they were finished Andy grabbed him and pulled Patrick close, kissing him again. 

The two fell onto the sofa, still kissing.

When they came up for air, Patrick asked

"What do you want to watch?"

"Mmmm, Avengers?"

Patrick nodded and moved and put it in. 

After pressing play he scooted closer and curled up to Andy's side.

Andy sighed happily, putting his arms on the back of the couch, one moving to wrap around Patrick.

 

They stayed like that throughout the movie.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anyone was wondering...  
> dan dan noodles  
> http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2013/02/vegan-dan-dan-noodles-recipe.html  
> kale and chickpea salad http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2012/01/vegan-marinated-kale-chickpea-salad-sumac-onions-recipe.html


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brennalee6296 on Chapter 41 Thu 24 Sep 2015 08:48PM EDT  
> so good!! but he should like totally get better again, like really better, then fall back into it again.  
> DesolationCrow on Chapter 45  
> Loved this chapter, I was thinking that an idea for a chapter could be that Pete and Patrick never told Joe and Andy about Patrick's suicide attempt (I don't know why they'd do that but I hope you can come up with something haha) and since Patrick seems to be getting better now maybe he could like start getting bad again (like self harming again idk) and then Pete like catches him doing something or just catches on and they start fighting and Pete mentions the suicide attempt and Joe and Andy hear, and then have their reaction to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 1

Patrick had been doing fantastic, let's start with that.

At the recommendation of Patrick's therapist to start a light exercise regimen he took classes offered at the hospital where Dr. Morgenstern's practice was located in (Patrick also was down to 2 a month appointments with Dr. Morgenstern).

The three a week classes were helping with his body image and Melanie (they stayed just friends) helped with his self-esteem as well.

And Joe had gotten him to stop reading the hate comments online (though he still saw some on Twitter, like "Patrick's gotten so **fat** again!'.

So Patrick had been fantastic.

His weight had been normal and stable.

He hadn't binged or purged in 7 months.

He hadn't starved either.

His mood had been great, as well (not many thoughts about death)

Fall Out Boy had a plethora of almost finished songs, strings of lyrics, and half completed compositions, that they were going to work on before the tour next year. 

But then.... it went downhill.

Patrick couldn't even remember how it started just that some time almost a month ago he started to fall into old behaviors.

He started to go to a regular gym on days he didn't have a class in the evenings. 

He ate more salads.

Only drank carbonated water. (it fills you up)

He still smiled and worked with the guys. 

It wasn't bad.... he was eating (not as much as he should have been) and he wasn't purging.  

 

* * *

Of course that had been 4 months ago.

Now it was just like before. 

He stopped going to the classes, and instead went to a regular gym for 3 hours every day (well every day he was able to).

He spent every minute that he wasn't doing something for the band, or at the gym in his house. 

He didn't have anything in his fridge.

He really only ate when working with the guys.

(Have to keep up appearances. Everything's fine.)

Except.... everything's **NOT** fine.

Patrick's in denial and doesn't see his friend's concerned looks.

He locks himself away, not thinking that now Pete and Joe and Andy know what signs to look for and he's giving them all off.

He's lost weight.

He started to wear more loose, bulky clothes.

He no longer ate dessert and avoided foods containing carbs or fat, and he only drank diet soda or water.

When he could he avoided eating with them.

He would always bake cookies for the kids, but never ate them himself.

On some of the interviews when the interviewer would bring up his weight loss (or the gain since Soul Punk) he would get this pleased (or frustrated) look in his eyes.

He was less focused and more tired, again. 

But not one of them knew how to bring it up properly.

Andy had mentioned, a few times, how it seemed like Patrick was losing weight and Patrick would simply say- 

"Well I've been taking those classes my therapist recommended, remember?"

Or when Pete asked if Dr. Morgenstern thought he was doing okay Patrick would nod and laugh and say-

"Yeah, Pete, it's all okay."

Even though Patrick stopped going weeks ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Fall Out Boy had just announced their new tour.

Though all four of them were uncertain on whether it was a good idea, all for varying reasons.

"Well, um..."

Patrick stood and stretched, feeling jittery and a bit cranky.

He hadn't slept last night.... or the night before.

"I'm heading out, see you guys later."

Andy kicked Pete and nodded to where Patrick was putting on his coat. 

"What's the rush, Trick? We should celebrate, get some cake or vegan ice cream."

Pete asked, watching for Patrick's reaction. 

Patrick paused before shrugging on his 2nd outer-layer. 

"I have a class."

_'sure you do'_

Joe came back into the room, holding 3 beers.

He tossed one to Pete and handed another to Patrick, then he put his arm around Patrick's shoulders.

"C'mon, we're celebrating!"

Joe dragged Patrick to the couch, pushing him down, gently, on Pete's toes and sat on the arm by Andy.

"Can't" 

Patrick stood back up - and the room spun slightly.

He fell back on the couch.

"Stay, Patrick. .... you shouldn't be taking those classes anyway."

Andy said, the second part under his breath.

Patrick turned to look at him, glaring.

He had still heard it.

"No, I'm going."

This time Patrick stayed upright and walked over to the table and set down the beer Joe had given him.

He turned around again, leaning against the table for support.

"What did you mean by that, anyway?"

Andy looked at Joe, who shrugged and took a sip of beer.

"Patrick, we're just concerned."

Andy said.

"Why?"

Patrick was getting anxious and upset.

"Pat- we just think that maybe you're overdoing it."

Joe said.

"I'm fine!" 

Patrick groaned, and turned towards the door.

"Patrick, please, just wait and talk to us."

Pete pleaded. 

Patrick paused, then turned back around and sat on the table.

"Well? I have a half hour until class."

"Okay. How are things going with Dr. Morgenstern?"

"Fine."

_'lie'_

"Just fine?"

Joe prodded.

"Yeah, just fine."

Patrick played with the bottom of his long sleeved shirt.

"How about therapy."

_'haven't been there in ages'_

"Good."

There was a beat of silence.

"Trick, we're just worried, you're not looking too hot nowadays."

_'ouch'_

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you look sick, Patrick."

Joe said, straight out.

"I'm fine."

_'fine. fine. fine.'_

Patrick got up and began to walk away.

"I'll see you later, I don't want to be late."

Pete groaned.

"Patrick, just stop it!"

He yelled.

_'fuck'_

Patrick froze, eyes wide.

_'shit'_

"Just, argh! Trick...."

Pete stood up and walked over.

He looked directly into Patrick's eyes.

"You're not fine."

Patrick scoffed. 

"Yeah I am. Now if you'll excuse me."

Patrick turned and.... Pete reached out and grabbed his right wrist, twisting him to face them.

Pete's fingers wrapped around Patrick's wrist easily as he pulled it up so that it was between the two of them and at eye level.

Joe moved and leaned against the door, effectively blocking Patrick from leaving.

Pete gently shook Patrick's wrist.

"Look at this, Patrick, look!"

Pete squeezed just a bit.

"You're doing it again!"

Patrick tried to wrench his arm away, but he wasn't strong enough, his muscles were constantly screaming at him, day and night.

"Doing what? Huh? I'm fine Pete!"

Pete let out a frustrated- 

"ARGHHH"

And let go of Patrick's wrist to grab both of his shoulders.

"STARVING! trick.... you're relapsing."

Pete moved back, dragging Patrick with him to sit back down on the couch.

"Patrick, please let us help."

Andy leaned over and took Patrick's hand in his.

Andy could see each bone in Patrick's smaller hand.

Patrick slouched backwards into the couch a frustrated scowl on his face.

"Patrick, don't, please just I- we can't, really we can't Patrick. We can't watch you slowly kill yourself, again!"

Pete pulled his knees up and hugged them close to his chest. 

Patrick huffed.

_'enough. god. i'm fine. fine. haven't slept in 2 days.... haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday... i'm fine.'_

"Pete, I'm not- I'm fine, nothing's wrong."

"Do you swear it?"

Patrick stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

_'this is a serious matter. they suspect. run. abort. they'll fatten you up again.'_

"Yeah, Pete, sure."

_'serious.'_

"Because you promised last time. Last time you promised me that if things got bad you would tell someone."

Pete stared at Patrick.

"No... Pete I--"

Patrick was cut off by Joe.

"Wait, last time? What last time?"

Andy nodded.

"Yeah when was this?"

Patrick looked at Pete, wide-eyed.

He had made Pete promise not to tell anyone. 

Only Pete and his therapist and Dr. Morgenstern knew.

Knew that he had tried to kill himself by overdosing on his meds.

_'shit. fuck.''_

Right around this time Patrick had a small moment of clarity.

_'just because i'm not purging doesn't mean i'm not relapsing. fuck. i'm relapsing. because you're fat. fat and worthless and useless. die.'_

Pete opened his mouth to explain but Patrick cut him off by blurting out

"I told Pete not to tell anyone!"

His voice now lacking that "I'm done with this conversation, everything's fine guys" tone.

"Told him not to tell anyone what?" 

Joe asked, scared.

Pete looked at Patrick and when Patrick didn't reply Pete said

"It was while we were on tour, in some hotel somewhere." 

Patrick hid his face.

"Trick and I were going to get dinner..."

Pete paused, trying to catch Patrick's eyes.

"Patrick, he..."

"I wrote a suicide note and swallowed a bunch of pills."

Patrick didn't look up from the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc...


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GiveEmHelena on Chapter 46 Fri 23 Oct 2015 03:31PM EDT  
> Ok so I don't know what/if you have anything planned for the other part(s?) of this chapter but I was thinking maybe after everything gets explained and reactions happen and such, Patrick could get up to leave and where he was already getting dizzy before maybe he could faint on his way out and idk where this is going but it's just an idea I had
> 
> and
> 
> SmolBean on Chapter 46 Sun 25 Oct 2015 12:35PM EDT  
> Maybe not in the very next chapter though, possibly in a future chapter? And then like when Patrick collapses the guys could find that he's not breathing and so Andy has to do CPR (because he seems like the one who would know how to do that) and if you want he could accidentally bruise or crack one of Patrick's ribs, when I was at a first aid course they told us that could happen but it's a small price to pay to get the person breathing again. And idk he could go to the hospital if you want to it doesn't matter whatever you think works best

Patrick couldn't look at anyone, so he hunched over looking at the carpet, elbows on his thighs and head in his hands.

No one knew what to say.

Pete eyed his three best friends.

He hadn't wanted to keep this from Joe and Andy.

Andy hesitated before gently placing a hand gently on Patrick's back.

Andy made a small pained face - he could feel the ridges of Patrick's spine even through the layers.

Andy rubbed small circles and said softly,

"Patrick..."

Patrick huffed and said tiredly

"It's not like that anymore."

Joe moved closer from his spot at the door and pulled a chair from the table and mirrored Patrick's position.

"Why?"

he asked.

Patrick shook his head, thinking about that night.

Pete huffed. 

"I--- don't know, okay, I just... I had wanted to die--no, um more didn't wanted to live."

Patrick rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye, he had a migraine now.

"But you didn't die."

Joe prodded.

"No"

Patrick agreed.

"I- I changed my mind."

Joe looked at Pete questioningly.

Pete nodded and answered the unasked question.

"He took all of his meds and then changed his mind and called me. I got him to get the pills out of his system..."

Patrick winced, thinking about how he had done that- his dirty secret- in front of his best friend.

"...and we layed down and talked about it."

There was a heavy pause.

_Get out._

_Go. Go. Go!_

"He wrote a note."

Patrick couldn't.... he sat up, shaking off Andy's hand, and still didn't look at anyone.

 _Run_.

"Wha.... what did you say, Patrick?"

Andy asked cautiously.

Patrick shook his head and tried to think of how he could get to the door before one of them stopped him.

Andy looked at Pete then.

"He wrote that he was _sorry_."

Pete sounded mad.

_Shit._

"Said he was sorry he wasn't good enough, sorry that he wasn't happy with his life, sorry that _**we** _ had to deal with him, sorry he hadn't done it when he 21, sorry that he " _wasted_ " all of of our time. Sorry about what he put us through. And to top it off he said we shouldn't blame ourselves! Like we weren't his friends, and like we wouldn't have done anything for him. Said he was sorry, because he had been getting better, sorry that he was relapsing, even though it's perfectly normal in recovery!.... He said he felt like he was empty and that he meaningless and worthless. He thought we probably wouldn't even miss him- OUR FRIEND **!** "

Pete had tracks of tears running down his cheeks, but Patrick didn't see them. 

Before Joe or Andy could say something one of their phones rang from the other side of the room.

It was Andy's and he got up to grab it.

At the same time Joe moved to sit on the other side of Pete.

Leaving a clear path from Patrick to the door.

His heart was beating rapidly and there was a pounding in his head. 

But... Patrick didn't want to stay here, couldn't he didn't want to listen to how much of a disappointment or coward he was from the 3 people he considered his closest friends.

If he just made it to the door and got outside before the others he could sprint to his car and get in and lock the door and then drive. 

He took a deep breath, something that seemed harder that it had in the past and stood up quickly while Andy was talking into his phone and Pete was curled up with Joe, whispering to one another.

The corners of his vision blackened as he tried to play it cool and look like he was getting the water bottle he had left by the coats.

He grabbed the bottle and had to grip the wall to keep from falling over.

Pete and Joe relaxed when they saw him pause and take a drink and Andy was still preoccupied. 

Carefully Patrick inched closer to the door. 

His hands and feet felt tingly and there were a lot of tiny black spots in his vision. 

"Patrick?"

Andy looked over, concerned etched on his face.

His tone cause Joe and Pete to look over and Patrick tried to wave them off.

But shaking his head was a bad idea and before he could try and stop himself Patrick slipped into unconsciousness. 


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SmolBean on Chapter 46 Sun 25 Oct 2015 12:35PM EDT  
> Maybe not in the very next chapter though, possibly in a future chapter? And then like when Patrick collapses the guys could find that he's not breathing and so Andy has to do CPR (because he seems like the one who would know how to do that) and if you want he could accidentally bruise or crack one of Patrick's ribs, when I was at a first aid course they told us that could happen but it's a small price to pay to get the person breathing again. And idk he could go to the hospital if you want to it doesn't matter whatever you think works best
> 
> and
> 
> GiveEmHelena on Chapter 46 Fri 23 Oct 2015 03:31PM EDT  
> Ok so I don't know what/if you have anything planned for the other part(s?) of this chapter but I was thinking maybe after everything gets explained and reactions happen and such, Patrick could get up to leave and where he was already getting dizzy before maybe he could faint on his way out and idk where this is going but it's just an idea I had

Andy was the first to reach Patrick's unconscious body, and Joe and Pete were right behind.

Andy gently turned Patrick so he was on his back.

Joe picked up his arm and felt for Patrick's pulse.

Pete leaned down to check his breathing.

"He's not breathing!!"

Pete shouted.

Andy pushed Joe and Pete away.

Pete pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"His pulse is really low too."

Joe said.

Andy placed his hands on Patrick's chests and started compressions

_1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30_

Then Andy opened Patrick's mouth and pinched his nose breathing in one... two times before repeating compressions.

**From Pete's phone: "9-1-1 what is your emergency?"**

_1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30_

"Patrick isn't- he fainted and he's not breathing!

**From Pete's phone: "Sir, I need you to remain calm, is there someone with you with medical training?"**

"Andy's doing CPR, and Joe said his pulse is low."

**From Pete's phone: "Sir, what is your address?"**

"Uh, it's 892 Bayfield Road."

Pete watched as Andy bent down and pinched Patrick's nose again.

**From Pete's phone: "Sir, an ambulance is on it's way, I need you to remain on the line with me, can you do that?"**

Pete nodded, then after a moment said 

"Yeah"

Joe had heard from where he was and said,

"I'll wait outside for the ambulance, so they know where we are."

Pete nodded to him and Joe slipped out of the room, glancing at Patrick one last time.

Andy started his compressions again.

_1-2-3-4-5-6- cough-cough-uarghh_

"Patrick!"

Pete yelled.

Andy helped Patrick so that he was leaning against Andy's knee.

Patrick's eyelids fluttered.

"Wha---"

And then shut again.

"He's breathing again."

Pete said into the phone.

**From Pete's phone: "Good, the ambulance should be there momentarily."**

And just then Joe opened the door and two EMTs rushed over to Patrick. 

"We're going to load your friend on to the stretcher and get him to the hospital."

One said as they worked.

Once Patrick was strapped to the stretcher the other said,

"One of you can ride with us."

Joe, Andy, and Pete looked at each other.

"Joe"

Pete said and Andy nodded.

Joe smiled grimly and nodded, following the EMT's back out with Patrick on the stretcher. 

 


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UrMum on Chapter 48 Sun 01 Nov 2015 08:21PM EST  
> So like I have no idea what you have planned for this because you haven't had notes for the last couple chapters but if you're still going with this little story arc chapter suggestion type thing then maybe an idea could be that the person Andy was talking to on the phone was Patrick's mom (idk why maybe she tried to call Patrick but he didn't answer so she called Andy) and when Patrick fainted he forgot to hang up the phone and just kind of threw it aside and so Patrick's mom hears everything and freaks out and visits him in the hospital and sadness ensues

As soon as Joe left in the ambulance with Patrick, Pete gathered up his stuff- jacket, wallet and phone in his pockets, and keys in his hand. 

Andy moved slower, the shock of everything catching up to him as his adrenaline levels went down.

He checked his pockets, he had his wallet and keys, but he had left his phone-----

He had been talking to Patricia, who was trying to reach his son.

"You good to drive, Pete?"

Andy asked, walking over to where he left his phone.

"Yeah, sure"

Pete replied.

"Good, because I was on the phone with Patrick's mom... So I should call her--"

Andy stopped when he saw that the call was still connected.

He picked up his phone.

"Hello? Pat?"

**From Andy's phone: "Oh, Andrew, thank goodness. What happened? Is my baby okay?"**

Andy to a deep breath and motioned for Pete to head out .

He followed and answered Patricia

"I don't know how much you could hear, Pat, but what happened was- Patrick fainted, we're pretty sure he's relapsing----"

_"HE MOST DEFINITELY IS!!"_

Pete yelled, interrupting Andy.

"Okay, so Patrick is relapsing and he fainted and he... he wasn't breathing, so I had to do CPR while Pete called 9-1-1. I got him breathing again and he was conscious for a bit before the paramedics got here. Joe's riding with them in the ambulance and Pete and I are just getting in the car now."

**From Andy's phone: "What hospital? I'm catching the next flight"**

Andy knew better than to try and changer her mind... and why would he? 

Her son could have died.

"Saint John's--- Pete slow down! It would be counter productive if we got in a wreck or were pulled over."

**From Andy's phone: "Thank-you, make sure my boy's okay and that he listens to the doctors, I'll be there soon."**

"You got it, bye, Patricia"

Andy hung up just as Pete parked. 

 


	50. Chapter 50

After they had parked it took Pete and Andy a couple minutes to find Joe.

The lady at reception was very unhelpful.

As the two stepped into the small room, connected to the ER they found Joe sitting tensely in a chair next to Patrick's bed.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu hit both of them.

Pete thought back to after Patrick had fainted while on stage.

Andy was also thinking of that, and also of Pete lying in the hospital, looking fragile after he tried to kill himself.

"How's he doing? What did the doctor say?"

Andy asked as Pete carefully climbed onto the bed, staying at the bottom, near Patrick's feet.

Joe looked at Andy.

"Doc said he hit his head pretty hard when he fainted, and that he's malnourished and dehydrated- but I guess we already knew that."

Andy nodded.

"Is he...?"

Andy gestured to Patrick's unconscious form.

"No, thank god, he's not in a coma just sleeping."

There was a small lull in the conversation.

"What are all the tubes?"

Pete asked.

"The have him on steroids for the swelling in his head, some kind of nutrient mix, and a saline solution for the dehydration."

Joe told them.

* * *

Patrick's doctor allowed the three of them to stay in his room- on the condition that ~~if~~ when Patrick woke up, if he wanted them out that they would leave.

Joe had gone down 15 minutes ago to the cafeteria and gotten them food and coffee.

They were currently sitting around the room eating.

Pete was on the phone with Meagan and Joe was talking to his wife.

Both were explaining the situation.

Patricia's plane wasn't due to land for another 3 hours.

* * *

Pete had pilfered a deck of cards from one of the nurses in pediatrics. 

And the three of them were playing a game on the floor.

_"no, no, no, please, please!"_

Patrick gasped, machines beeping erratically. 

Pete was up and by his side in a matter of seconds.

"Trick. Hey, man, calm down, you're okay, hey, look at me."

Patrick's eyes were unfocused, but he calmed down a bit as Pete continued to talk.

Andy called for a nurse.

After Patrick had caught his breath he lay back and relaxed.

"What happened?"

He looked at Pete, then Joe, then at Andy.

Before they could respond a young doctor walked in. 

"Ah, Mr. Stump, good to see you're awake."

 


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UrMum on Bits and Pieces 9 days ago  
> So like I have no idea what you have planned for this because you haven't had notes for the last couple chapters but if you're still going with this little story arc chapter suggestion type thing then maybe an idea could be that the person Andy was talking to on the phone was Patrick's mom (idk why maybe she tried to call Patrick but he didn't answer so she called Andy) and when Patrick fainted he forgot to hang up the phone and just kind of threw it aside and so Patrick's mom hears everything and freaks out and visits him in the hospital and sadness ensues
> 
> and part of 
> 
> Bri on Bits and Pieces 1 day ago  
> Maybe something about Andy and Patrick's relationship and how he was legally dead for a few seconds and he can't tour until he is a certain weight etc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the next chapter....  
> Idk if you'll be able to tell but I reread Wintergirls the other day and I feel like some of my writing in the second half of this sounds like that.  
> I have ideas now, which I didn't before...

It was just like last time... except it wasn't.

Last time the guys didn't really know what was going on... and neither had Patrick.

This time they were talking inpatient.

Patrick hadn't been listening too well...

He was too cold, too uncomfortable on the stiff hospital bed, too full of sugar water and liquid fat, too tired.

Last time he had been lucky, so very lucky.

Last time he had starved and binged and purged and lost too much (not enough) weight in too little time and kept it off for too long.

Too long in the dark, alone with just his demons.

He was lucky his esophagus hadn't rupture.

Lucky his heart hadn't quit.

Lucky, last time, that his organs bounced right back.

Dr. Adams had talked and talked but Patrick couldn't hear much over the screaming in his mind.

Patrick's insides felt like ice. 

_"Kidneys failing"_

_"Heart problems"_

_"Best if he rested under professional supervision"_

Last time Patrick spent 3 days in a coma.

He wishes he was in one now.

Last time his mom hadn't found out until much, much later.

This time she had heard it all through Andy's phone.

This time her flight had just landed.

* * *

 

The guys had decided to reschedule some of the dates for the upcoming tour, and were thinking about rescheduling it all together. 

Because Patrick was too thin (he wasn't), his body needed to rest (he was so very tired), and his body needed the proper nutrients (he ate, really he did).

He was too cold and the lights in the room were too bright and it smelled like death and window cleaner.

He couldn't get comfortable, couldn't sleep, wouldn't eat (too many calories already filling up his body via IV).

The nurses stacked blanket upon blanket on top of him and still he couldn't sleep.

He couldn't handle it- handle them- Pete and Joe and Andy.

They looked disappointed.

So he sent them away.

For 43 whole minutes he was alone, except for the nurses who came in and checked on him periodically.

* * *

 

Patricia Stumph hated flying.

She wasn't afraid of flying- or of heights- she just didn't like it, not at all.

And 4 hours of it was hell.

But her baby was in the hospital.

She took a taxi straight from the airport to Saint John's.

The lady at reception- the same lady Pete and Andy had spoken with- kindly and promptly directed her to room 589.

Patricia rode the elevator to the 5th floor and stepped out.

She turned left and spoke to a nice gentleman at the desk, she signed herself in and got a bright yellow visitor badge.

She walked down another hallway and was stopped outside of the communal family waiting area.

Just as she was about to go Patricia noticed Pete in the corner, half asleep with a magazine in his lap.

She walked over to him and gently shook him.

"Whaaaa? Oh, Pat, hey"

Pete straightened up and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why aren't you with my son?"

Pete winced. 

"Patrick didn't wa- he wanted to be alone, and we promised the doc we would leave if he wanted us to."

Patricia tsked.

"Come on, with me."

She let Pete lead the way, since he knew where to go.

"How bad is it, Peter?"

Pete stopped outside the door marked 589.

"It's.... he doesn't look as bad as last time, but... the doctors... they said this relapse hit him really hard."

Patricia nodded and moved around Pete, opening the door.

Inside she found her son.

Her baby boy.

He was too thin.

Too pale.

He blended in with the white on white room, and the bed seemed too big for his small body.

But Pete was right, he didn't look as bad as he had that night at dinner when she first found out. 

"Patrick."

He looked up and Patricia's heart broke, his eyes were so dull.

"Hey mom."

Patrick looked at her then at Pete and shifted his focus between the two.

* * *

 

Mere seconds ago, before they came in Patrick's head was telling him terrible nasty things.

(Well, it always did.)

It told him he was going inpatient.

And Patrick knew enough about that from the early days of.... _**not-eating.**_

Early days, in between Soul Punk shows and interviews and avoiding ~~anyone~~ everything.

Sites with sick people talking about bones and tiny hands and not leaving footprints in the snow.

Sites where they he tracked calories and fat and carbs and bad bad bad things.

Sites with pictures of skeletons and models and who could really tell the difference.

Sites with blog posts about _"My parents are forcing me inpatient"_ and _"They stuff food down your throat"_ and _"You can't even go to the bathroom without them watching."_

Inpatient was jail, it was prison, it was hell.

It was where people like him- people who sometimes didn't eat, people who maybe stuck their fingers in their mouths and pressed at the back of their throats, people who just wanted to be ~~thinner~~ happy went.

And when they came out- if they came out- they were fat and dull and zombie-like.

Inpatient took a person like Patrick's control and ripped it to shreds with routines and meal plans and therapy sessions.

* * *

 

Patricia didn't know what to do.

This was her son, so why did she feel like she was in a stranger's hospital room.

"Honey"

She walked quickly to the side of his bed and, mindful of the IV tubes, hugged him.

"Mom"

Patrick sighed.

She smelled like home- apple crisp, grass, and dog.

He missed her.

But- no this wasn't a good thing, she was here to make him go inpatient.

If he was a ~~stronger~~ man he would be able to tell his mother to leave just as he had with his friends.

_"Get out! Just get out!"_

He had yelled at Joe and at Pete and at Andy.

And they left.

"Patrick, honey, dear, why?"

Patrick refocused his attention back on his mother.

_'Because I'm fat mom, I'm a mess.'_

"I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I make him go inpatient?  
> Cause I'm thinking that if so it's like a real expensive 'hush hush' place for ya know famous people and someone commented wanting Ryan Ross so in that scenario I could make him a fellow patient, but I don't really know how to write Ryan... you know I think that's what I'll do... maybe, let me know.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically it's inpatient 
> 
> brennalee6295 on Bits and Pieces 5 days ago  
> inpatient sounds like a good idea.  
> and  
> Minecraftwarcat on Bits and Pieces 5 days ago  
> i dont like ryan ross but inpatient doesnt sound too bad  
> and part of  
> Bri on Bits and Pieces 7 days ago  
> Maybe something about Andy and Patrick's relationship and how he was legally dead for a few seconds and he can't tour until he is a certain weight etc  
> and part of  
> Name on Bits and Pieces 5 days ago  
> The inpatient thing sounds like a great idea! If you do go with the Ryan Ross thing then maybe when everyone drops Patrick off to say goodbye or whatever Brendon could go with them and see Ryan there and maybe something could happen there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter- the start of inpatient.  
> (Also I realize it's short and I apologize. Especially to GiveMeBeans)

 

 

The Charles Xavier Residential Treatment Center was 'the best facility for inpatient treatment for Anorexia, Bulimia, and Binge-Eating Disorders' in the state.

Far out in the country, it offered privacy for individuals who didn't want their.... 'condition' in the media.

Actors and Actresses, Award-winning Authors, Supermodels, Rock Stars-- anyone who could afford the expense of a 'hush hush' place for their recovery went to The Charles Xavier Residential Treatment Center.

The Charles Xavier Residential Treatment Center offered: supported snacks and meals, nutrition classes, art and music therapies along with regular one-on-one therapy and psychiatric sessions.

Each individual would have their own primary therapist, psychiatrist, physician, registered dietician, as well as an eating disorder specialist.

Family therapy sessions and classes were also offered for those who would support the individual later on in their recovery journey.

And it was currently the building in the distance of the car that Patrick was in.

* * *

**2 days prior**

* * *

 Patrick was in the hospital, because he fainted.

Because he was dehydrated and malnourished.

Because he hadn't been eating properly and had been over exercising.

Because he was relapsing. 

This time his doctor - Dr. Grey - had been adamant that he get professional treatment.

And was urging Patrick (and his mom and his friends) to try inpatient.

And when Patricia Stumph wanted something done, well no one really argued.

Patrick was sick.

Literally he threw up 23 minutes ago just thinking of inpatient treatment.

"Patrick, honey, I just want the best for you, you're very unwell. I want you to get the proper help, Dr. Grey has suggested somewhere called the Charles Xavier Center or something like that, and I think it's our best choice."

Patrick continued to stare at his lap.

He already knew that he would be going there. 

He hated it.

Hated his mom.

Hated the doctor.

**_Hated himself._ **

"Patrick?"

Her tone was sharp, but concerned.

He nodded.

"Mom.... yeah, okay, fine- whatever."

The deal was struck.

* * *

 As Pete parked; Patricia and Andy sat in the back and Patrick had shotgun, Patrick turned and asked

"Two weeks? Right?"

Pete hummed and nodded.

"Two weeks."

"Then you'll come pick me up? Right?"

_Don't leave me._

"I'm picking you up."

Andy said as they all got out.

* * *

 

Andy had gotten him alone, the day before.

Patrick was 'eating' (he really was just pushing the food around so it looked like he had eaten).

Andy had entered his hospital room and had stood by the door for a few minutes until Patrick looked at him and acknowledged he was there.

"How are you feeling about... everything?"

Andy asked as he moved and sat on the foot of the bed.

Patrick sighed and pushed his tray away, ignoring the look from Andy.

"I don't want to go inpatient."

Andy hmmed.

"But you know you have to right?"

Patrick shook his head.

"No, not really, last time I didn't have to."

Andy was silent for a bit, lips pursed, thinking of what to say.

"This time is different than last time."

Patrick huffed.

"How?"

Andy stared at him, eye-to-eye.

"This time you died."

No one had really told Patrick.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you fainted and you hit the floor hard and when we got to you- you weren't breathing and your pulse was weak. I had to do CPR Patrick, and in the ambulance- when they got you in the ambulance, Joe was with you, and he said that you-- crashed. Your heart stopped and so did your breathing again. The paramedics had to bring you back. You died, Patrick. You died."

* * *

 

Checking in meant that Patrick had to give up his phone, wallet, and keys.

He had to empty his pockets _and wow- the looks of disappointment from Andy and Pete when he placed a razor blade down were horrible._

He - Joe and his mom - had packed him a bag of clothes and books and stuff.

The orderlies had to check it before he was allowed to have any of it.

He had to give them his shoelaces and none of his packed clothes could have strings- like his favorite hoodie did around the hood.

He couldn't bring tweezers or a razor to shave with, he couldn't have his own toothbrush or mouthwash.

All of his medication was sent to the doctors- he would be given them at meals.

Checking in meant that he had to say goodbye to his mom and his friends- he told Pete and Andy to tell Joe(who was out of state checking on his sick mother). 

Then, when they left him and he was stuck he had to wait in a small room for a doctor to weigh him, take his blood, check his body for open/recent cuts or injuries and then he would be escorted to his "private room". 

_2 weeks_

Patrick thought as he stared at the door waiting.

_14 days then I'm free._

_Andy won't leave me here._

_They won't forget about me._

_Would they?_

_What if they're glad... what if they sent me here because they're sick of dealing with me?_

_Oh god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next some inpatient stuff (it's going to be like little pieces like I'll do a scene with the psychiatrist and one with his therapist and one for group therapy)  
> Also I will be writing a scene where Patrick sees Brendon- and he's here to visit Ryan- who is in a group therapy with Patrick later- but Ryan doesn't want to see Brendon, so I won't really be writing much of Ryan Ross as per suggested by Name(Apologies to Minecraftwarcat)  
> I'll also try and touch on Patrick's and Andy's relationship and how as suggested by FallOutFish and CheckTheKettle.  
> And then after the 2 weeks of inpatient the guys are going to be taking care of him since they'll have been taking those classes offered at the center as per suggested by Tia.  
> Oh! and also a bit where probably in the car after they checked Patrick in the guys - not sure if it'll be Pete or Andy or like both of them, but Patricia will learn about the suicide attempt.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bren on Chapter 50 Mon 09 Nov 2015 10:15PM EST  
> I lowkey want Ryan Ross to just randomly make an appearance tbh, don't know how well that would work out though, probably wouldn't even make sense if we're being realistic haha  
> and  
> brennalee6295 on Chapter 51 Wed 11 Nov 2015 06:23PM EST  
> inpatient sounds like a good idea.  
> and  
> Name on Chapter 51 Wed 11 Nov 2015 10:04PM EST  
> The inpatient thing sounds like a great idea! If you do go with the Ryan Ross thing then maybe when everyone drops Patrick off to say goodbye or whatever Brendon could go with them and see Ryan there and maybe something could happen there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some inpatient things and a surprise at the end.

Patrick had been admitted at 10:17 am.

It took until 10:51 am for him for him to be able to situate himself in his room.

But without any of the things that had been packed for him.

He would, apparently, get his stuff before lights out (which was a thing) tonight.

The admission physical exam had been so very, very awkward and uncomfortable.

The nurse was quiet, apart from telling him to open his mouth and saw 'ah' or other things to make her job easier.

After she had checked his blood pressure, pulse, took his temperature, checked eyes and nose and mouth, tested his reflexes, and numerous other things Patrick had been left with the instructions that the doctor would be there shortly and to strip down and change into the provided gown.

The doctor finally did get there, after making him wait 8 minutes in the cold air-conditioned room wearing only a thin hospital gown and equally thin boxer briefs.

The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Marleen Gaye. 

She rechecked his pulse first before explaining to him what she was going to do next.

She told him that it was standard procedure to check for any recent cuts/burns/any form of self harm, if the incoming patient has suffered from self harm.

It was terribly awkward and uncomfortable.

He didn't want her too see him.

It was humiliating.

But it was over soon.

The last thing Dr. Gaye did, before he changed, had been weighing him.

Patrick's mind fizzed out for a minute.

He  ~~didn't want~~ needed to know what he weighed. 

Needed to know how much of a fuck up he was.

But Dr. Gaye had him face away from the numbers when she weighed him.

Apparently know the number would hinder his recovery.

* * *

 

As he stood in the door frame of his room the floor nurse chattered away- listing the rules.

Patrick gave her about 50% of his attention.

The room itself was pretty bare.

(Doors must stay open, not all the way but they can't be closed)

There was one window- it looked screwed shut.

(Wake up is 7, and lights out was 9:30)

The bed looked expensive and too fluffy to be comfortable, with white sheets and a pale blue comforter.

(Breakfast is at 8 every morning, a snack at 10:15, lunch at 12:30, another snack at 2, dinner at 4, supper at 6:30, and most patients had a snack before bed at 9)

There was a desk, with nothing on it, and a chair.

(The schedule was Monday and Friday were art group therapy, Tuesday and Thursday were music group therapy, Wednesday and Saturday were nutrition classes and he would be getting his own personal schedule for his therapist, physician, psychiatrist, and dietician.)

The room was painted a pale yellow with equally pale blue trim.

(We work with a points system here; points are awarded and taken away depending on if you attend and participate in group therapy, if you talk in your private sessions, if you attend meals and finish the food, and if you gain or lose weight)

It was carpeted, which was nice since Patrick couldn't wear shoes unless going outside or if they were needed for a therapy session.

(You'll learn other rules from your therapists and doctors. )

* * *

 16 minutes later a young orderly- his name tag said Nate- knocked on his open door.

"Mr. Stump?"

Patrick warily nodded.

"I'm Nate, I help out around here, mostly in the kitchen and dining areas."

Patrick nodded again.

_What did he want?_

"Lunch is coming up soon, and since you've just arrived we don't have a meal prepared for you."

_Good, I don't want it anyway._

Patrick remained silent.

Nate moved and set a piece of paper and a pencil on Patrick's desk.

"If you could, please, Mr. Stump."

Patrick nodded and got up slowly his vision faded in the corners and sat on the chair by the desk.

On the paper where lists of food each with a little box to their left.

"You'll see on the top the number of exchanges you need."

Patrick stared at Nate.

"We use the exchange system instead of going by caloric values."

Patrick nodded.

_Sure, okay._

"So it says that you need 3 Meat or meat substitutes, 3 Starches, 2 Fruit 2 Non-Starchy Vegetables, and 3 Fats"

Patrick gulped.

"Are you vegetarian or vegan, Mr. Stump?"

Patrick nodded.

"Vegetarian, and you- y-you can just call me Patrick, please"

"Alright, Patrick. So looking over this do you know what you'd want"

Patrick shook his head.

_No, he didn't want any of it._

Nate sat sat on the corner of the window sill and helped Patrick choose his lunch.

* * *

 Lunch.

Was it cliche of him to say he wasn't hungry.

Well he wasn't, in fact he felt nauseous.

He would have to leave his room and interact with people.

Patrick didn't want anyone else to know.

But then again everyone here was going through the same thing.

And Patrick, his mom, Pete and Andy had to sign a waver saying they wouldn't talk to the media about anyone here.

Joe would have to sign one too, if he came to visit.

_He won't, they're glad to be rid of you._

And the other patients and visitors had signed the same kind of thing.

And besides, Patrick wouldn't see these people again once he got out.

* * *

Kathy, the floor nurse, had come and escorted him to the dining room.

The other patients were already making their way there, slowly.

Patrick's eyes scanned over the others once he sat down- corner of the table, nearest to Maggie- the meal supervisor.

He vaguely recognized some faces, from award shows, television, etc. (That one man, he looks a lot like that one author Pete liked).

The Charles Xavier Residential Treatment Center was small and had a maximum patient capacity of only 25. 

Patrick counted the people at the table-22, including himself and excluding Maggie.

They were missing some people. 

Maggie waited, staring at the clock on the far wall.

When it turned 12:32 Maggie motioned to the people in the adjacent room, who immediately started carrying out trays.

Patrick stared at his as soon as it was set down.

With Nate's help Patrick had 'ordered' a PB&J sandwich, with a fruit cup, a glass of orange juice, steamed then buttered cauliflower, broccoli, and zucchini.

There was too much peanut butter on the bread-3 tablespoons- and the vegetables were practically swimming in the butter.

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

"Alright, end time is 1:33" 

Maggie said.

The others began to pick at and eat their food, some more enthusiastic than others- but it looked like no one really wanted to be there. 

Patrick picked up his sandwich with shaking hands. 

He took a small bite then set it down. 

_Deep breaths, you can do this._

Patrick shook his head and decided to eat his fruit first. 

5 minutes later he set down the empty plastic cup and reached for his cup and took a drink.

Methodically he ate his vegetables, he had tried to get most of the butter off but had gotten a warning look from Maggie.

1:06 and all Patrick had left was his PB&J.

Just as he was about to pick it up the door opened and 2 rather muscular orderlies came in with a patient behind them. 

Patrick recognized him, but couldn't remember who he was, he knew that he knew him- or at least he had known the other patient.

Patrick quickly looked down, staring is rude and he cut his PB&J in half so it was easier to deal with and took another bite.

1:29 and Patrick had about 2 bites left and his stomach was so full, too full and his mind was too loud, and he still didn't know where he knew that patient from- and it was annoying the hell out of him.

1:32 Patrick finished and pushed his tray in front of him and rested his head on the table, one arm working as a pillow, and the other hand snaked down and rubbed at his too full, distended stomach. 

1:33 And Patrick was following the other patients out of the room when it hit him- Ryan Ross.

The patient that had come to lunch late was Ryan Ross. 

Patrick glanced back and saw Ryan pushing his food around with his fork.

_Wow_

_Ryan Ross_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up some one-to-one therapy and doctors with maybe that scene with Patricia finding out about the attempted suicide thing.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me on Chapter 51 Thu 12 Nov 2015 06:05AM EST  
> I think maybe someone should tell Patricia about how Patrick attempted suicide and have her react to that  
> and  
> Bren on Chapter 50 Mon 09 Nov 2015 10:15PM EST  
> I lowkey want Ryan Ross to just randomly make an appearance tbh, don't know how well that would work out though, probably wouldn't even make sense if we're being realistic haha  
> and  
> brennalee6295 on Chapter 51 Wed 11 Nov 2015 06:23PM EST  
> inpatient sounds like a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so in the last chapter, this one, and the next few I'm writing about inpatient stuff and well- I've been inpatient, but I really don't remember much- because I was malnourished and all. So I'm not sure if these chapters are going to be good or feel 'real' or if they're just horrible, because what I've got to go on is my sketchy memory, books about e.d.s, and other people's writings on here. (just for ideas, I'm not stealing their work)  
> So here ya go...

The drive back to town was quiet until Pete turned on the radio.  

Another 3 minutes passed before Patricia spoke up, still looking out the passenger seat's window.

"Is there anything else that I need to know about my baby boy?"

Pete kept his eyes on the road and Andy looked down at his hands.

"Boys?"

_Well, Patrick also cuts himself._

_He tried to kill himself, Patricia._

_I'm sorry_

Neither of them spoke.

"Because he had, I saw when he was emptying out his pockets. He had a razor blade, why did my son have a razor blade in his pocket?"

Pete looked at Andy in the rearview mirror.

"Boys."

"Patrick... he self.... he self-harms"

Andy said softly.

Patricia raised a hand and covered her soft cry as a few tears fell down her cheeks.

"H-how bad?"

"The doctors at the hospital didn't find any new ones."

Pete said.

"But? What about before?"

"2 months after he fainted on stage Joe had to take him to the ER, he needed stitches, on his side and his right forearm. It was pretty bad." 

Pete couldn't look at Patricia, who was crying a little louder now.

"Patricia... there's something else."

Andy said.

Pete looked at him in the mirror and nodded.

"Uhm, yeah. During our last tour..."

Pete took a deep breath.

"Patrick.... he tried to overdose on his medication."

Patricia started sobbing.

"But he didn't- actually he changed his mind and called me and I was able to help him."

Patricia just nodded and dried her tears.

"Did he..."

She wiped her eyes.

"Did Patrick say anything, did he... was he going to say goodbye?"

Pete nodded.

"He left a note."

Patricia straightened up.

"I want to read it- assuming you still have it."

Pete looked at Andy when he said

"Yeah, it's saved on Patrick's computer. You guys can read if- if you really want to."

"I don't want to, I don't want to read my son's suicide note. But I will, I need to understand. It's like I don't even know my son any more, boys."

Pete nodded.

"Sometimes neither do I, and sometimes- I think Patrick doesn't either."

Andy said solemnly. 

* * *

 

Patrick was sitting in a very uncomfortable chair alone in a room.

In front of him was a desk with a lamp and a much comfortable looking chair. 

One of the day nurses had brought him in a minute ago, he was meeting with his psychologist for the first time and the man was late. 

'Not that it matters anyway, maybe the doctors decided I'm not worth their precious time.'

Patrick was interrupted by the door opening and a tall, wiry, balding man came in and sat down across from him.

The man opened the file he carried in and skimmed over it before looking up at Patrick, over his glasses.

"Mr. Stump?"

Patrick nodded.

"I'm Dr. Korrine, and if it would make you feel more comfortable my first name is William and you may call me that or Will or simply 'Doc' if you wish. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances."

Dr. Korrine chuckled softly.

Patrick's lips quirked into a small smile.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Patrick murmured softly.

"Good, good. Now on behalf of the Center I would like to welcome you, I understand that this was not your first choice- or perhaps wasn't even a choice to begin with, but since you are here, I would like to help in anyway I can."

Patrick nodded again.

"Good, hmmm."

Dr. Korrine looked at the file again.

"I'd like to just go over things, if that's alright with you."

Patrick shrugged.

"Well then, hmm your full name is Patrick Vaughn Stump or is it Patrick Martin?"

"Professionally it's Vaughn, but on my birth certificate it's Martin- and on my birth certificate my last name has a 'h' on the end."

"In the fall of 2013 you were taken to the local hospital and put on the care of a... Dr. Morrison?"

Patrick nodded.

Dr. Korrine went through every medically recorded moment from then to the other day.

"Is there anything else you think I should know?"

Patrick hesitated. 

_'Do not tell him. **Don't do it.'**_

"Yeah..."

Dr. Korrine nodded encouragingly.

"During our last tour.... I... I relapsed."

Dr. Korrine nodded and jotted something down.

"AndIalsotriedtokillmyself"

Dr. Korrine stopped writing and looked straight at Patrick.

"Could you repeat that, please"

"I tried to kill myself."

* * *

 He shouldn't have said anything.

' _Idiot.'_

He shouldn't have talked so much about his past.

_'Stupid. Stupid'_

He talked too much about Pete and everything that dealt with 2005 and best buy's parking lot.

He said too much about ~~working with~~  Joe and _Folie._

And he went on and on about Andy.

But most of all-

He shouldn't have told them he had tried to kill himself.

Patrick thumped his head against the wall.

He knew they were watching him.

**" _Suicide Watch"_**

Patrick wasn't stupid.

_'Yes you are'_

He wasn't stupid enough to try and kill himself while he was here.

Especially since he only had 12 and a half days left.

_'Unless they leave you here to rot'_

Thump 

Thump

Thump

_'They wouldn't. Andy won't. They care about me.'_

_'Do they though? Do they really?'_

Thump 

Thump

\---

"Mr. Stump, please stop bashing the wall with your head."

_'Behave, don't want to get on the nurses' bad side.'_

Patrick picked at his nails instead. 

Dinner was in 15 minutes.

He glanced at the clock.

' _13 minutes'_

And after that was his first group therapy.

_'Music. Music therapy.'_

And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

What exactly did 'music therapy' include?

Would he be allowed to play something by himself in the corner? 

_' **Group** Therapy'_

Patrick bit at a hangnail.

So he would have to socialize.

Patrick bit down harder.

_'Ryan Ross'_

What about him?

Patrick could..... 

What, what could he do?

Back when Panic! still included Ryan, back when Pete had signed them and Patrick was sort of thrown in with them and had four new 'friends'.

Back then, he didn't really talk to Ryan anyway.

Ryan talked with, hung out with, got close to Pete.

And besides Patrick was busy.

Doing something.

But could he avoid talking to Ryan Ross?

_'Maybe he won't recognize me'_

After all Patrick hadn't recognized him, at first.

Patrick startled when a hand waved in front of his face.

He must have zoned out.

He looked up and saw that it was one of the nurses.

"Mr. Stump? Can I see your hand?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Then he looked down and saw that he was bleeding.

He licked his lips and they tasted like copper.

_'Oh.'_

"Uh.. yeah, sorry- I-"

"You didn't notice you were doing it huh?"

Patrick nodded.

_'Suicide Watch'_

Patrick scoffed at himself.

_'It's just a bloody hangnail, it's not like I slit my wrists with a plastic knife.'_

"Would you follow me? There's some antibiotic ointment and bandaids at the nurses station."

Patrick nodded and slowly got up.

His vision would still fade out if he stood up too fast.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next... 1) Group Therapy 2) Brendon coming in to see Ryan and instead finds Patrick and they talk and maybe Ryan comes out and actually talks to Brendon. 3) maybe... just maybe, a scene where Patricia, Joe, and Andy read Patrick's note (maybe just Joe and Andy) and 4) possibility of a scene with the guys learning how to properly care for Patrick when he gets out.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon coming in to see Ryan and instead finds Patrick and they talk and maybe Ryan comes out and actually talks to Brendon. Patricia, Joe, and Andy read Patrick's note.

 

Patrick was wandering around.

He had just gotten out of his therapy session and had time to kill before dinner. 

It was only his 5th day and he already wanted out.

Patrick walked through the halls.

"Sir?"

Patrick looked up and saw one of the nurses, he walked over to him.

"Are you alright?"

_Given the fact that I'm here, no._

"Yeah, just trying to clear my head." 

The man smiled at him and went back to his reports.

Patrick sighed and turned around and walked a bit more.

The halls were mostly empty, except for a few staff members.

He came to the waiting room, where visitors would wait.

Patrick couldn't have any visitors until after 7 days- if he had the points. 

Patrick looked in and thought it was empty, until he noticed a man in the corner.

_Brendon?_

"Brendon?"

Patrick stepped into the room.

Brendon looked up from the magazine he hadn't actually been reading.

"Patrick!?"

Brendon looked surprised and happy.

Patrick slowly walked over and sat on a couch near Brendon.

"Hey."

Patrick pulled the ends of his cardigan sleeves down around his hands.

"Hey."

Brendon hesitated for a moment.

Which Patrick found very odd.

"Are you... are you a patient? Here?"

Patrick nodded.

"And you're visiting? Someone?"

_Ryan Ross._

_No._

_Really?_

"Well um does it count as visiting if I've never actually seen him when I come?"

"Ryan?"

Patrick asked, nervously.

Brendon sighed, slouching back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah. Ryan Ross."

Patrick hmmed.

"You haven't seen him?"

Brendon ran a hand through his hair.

"He doesn't want to see me."

He sounded sad and frustrated.

"How many times have you come and tried?"

"Well, you know what they say, 6th time's the charm."

Brendon chuckled bitterly. 

Patrick didn't say anything and there was a short silence.

"So... you're a patient here?"

Patrick grimaced.

"Uh yeah. I... I relapsed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah and I was in the hospital for a bit, and my mom- and the guys convinced me to come here."

Patrick added, 

"For two weeks." 

"Two weeks?"

Patrick nodded.

_9 days left._

They fell into another silence, both thinking about things.

"Ryan's in a couple groups with me."

Brendon looked at Patrick.

"Really?"

He looked... hopeful.

"We, we haven't actually talked."

"Oh" 

Brendon deflated. 

Patrick looked away.

"I- I could, you know talk with him, maybe. If you want?"

Brendon looked at him for a couple moments.

"You don't have to, Patrick.... You two... you weren't... you didn't hang out before. You don't have to."

Patrick nodded and bit his lip before asking

"How many more times are you going to try and see him?"

Brendon shrugged.

"I don't know"

He looked so sad.

Patrick stood up suddenly, and wobbled as his vision wibbled.

Brendon looked at him, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"I'll be right back."

And then Patrick walked out and back to the rooms.

* * *

 

Patrick didn't actually know which room was Ryan's but he did see him go in one of these two last night. 

He hung back so it didn't actually look like he was standing in front of someone's door creepily. 

A young girl walked past him and opened one of the doors.

Patrick caught a glimpse of the room and decided that that was her room.

Which meant the other was Ryan's.

 _Hopefully_. 

Patrick walked up to the door and knocked gently.

"Come in."

Ryan called from inside the room. 

Patrick slowly pushed the door more open and stepped halfway in.

"Hi, Ryan"

He leaned so most of his body was still behind the door, not sure if he was welcome.

Ryan was laying on his bed but he sat up and propped himself up against the wall and his pillows. 

"Hi..."

Ryan looked confused for a moment before he recognized Patrick.

"Hey Patrick, come in, have a seat."

Ryan gestured to the single desk chair.

"What's up? You- uh you just got here the other day right?"

Patrick nodded and replied

"5 days ago, yeah."

Ryan nodded and sat up a bit more.

"Uh, cool. I've been here for... uh a little over 3 months now."

Patrick bit his lip before saying 

"I'm getting out in 9 days. Then, well... sort of an outpatient thing. The guys are doing some training or something, I mean it worked before, I guess."

Patrick shrugged when he was finished.

"Wow. That's- that's good, it's nice that you have someon--them their for you."

Patrick nodded.

_Perfect time to mention Brendon._

 "How are they?"

Ryan asked, catching Patrick off guard. 

"Uhhh, good, happy."

Ryan nodded.

"It's been a long time, man."

Patrick agreed.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Hey, Patrick?"

"Yeah, Ryan?"

"Do you-- you still like-- Brendon's a friend of yours, right?"

Patrick nodded slowly, wondering what Ryan was thinking.

"And he's, doing okay?"

Patrick looked at Ryan for a moment.

"You could ask him yourself, Ryan."

Ryan looked over at him in confusion.

"He's in the visitors waiting area."

"I thought, I thought he would have given up."

Patrick shrugged and stood up slowly. 

"He's not planning on giving up anytime soon, Ryan, just talk to him."

Patrick walked to the door and looked back at Ryan.

"Talk to him, Ryan."

Ryan nodded and stood up as well. 

"Okay."

* * *

* * *

 

"Hey, Pete?"

Pete looked up from the nutrition book he was reading.

"What's up, Joe?"

"Patrick's out in 4 days."

Pete nodded.

"Ye **p** "

He replied, popping the p on the end.

"And we already discussed that he's going to stay with Andy for the most part."

Pete nodded again, looking back down at the book.

"Pete. Do you still have a copy of the note Patrick wrote?"

Pete looked back up, quickly, eyes wide.

"His. His suicide note?"

Joe nodded.

"Why?"

Joe half-shrugged.

"I need to know."

Pete looked at his friend.

"You really won't want to."

Pete stared at Joe.

"Pete."

Andy spoke up from the other side of his kitchen.

"We need to see it... please."

Pete nodded solomely and sighed.

"It's on my laptop, just let me get it from the other room."

* * *

 

When Pete came back he silently logged in and pulled up the document.

"This is it, I'm gonna read somewhere else."

He paused before adding

"I don't want to see that again." 

And he grabbed the book and the assigned handouts from The Charles Xavier Residential Treatment Center and left the kitchen.

Andy looked at Joe and Joe looked at Andy.

Joe turned the laptop so they could properly see the screen.

 

 

_To Everyone,_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'm sorry I wasn't happy with the life I have had. I'm sorry you had to deal with me for so long. I should have done this sooner, a long time ago, when I turned 21. That was the plan. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasted all of your time.I'm sorry I put you through so much shit. I'm sorry. You shouldn't blame yourselves. Please don't. I'm sorry that I made it seem like I was getting better- that I was recovering. I guess I was, for a bit. But then it came back. I just felt so empty. I'm meaningless and worthless. You probably won't miss me. But I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Sorry and Goodbye._

_Goodbye Mom, I know you always loved me. And I've always loved you. This isn't your fault. Take care of yourself._

_Goodbye Kevin, you're my brother and we haven't been that close in the past couple years, but when I was younger you were my best friend and my hero. You're strong, stronger than me, take care of Mom and Megan. I love you._

_Goodbye Megan. I love you, you were always the perfect big sister, and I'm sorry I was such a brat of a little brother. You don't have to worry about me anymore though. Take care of yourself, sister._  

_Goodbye Pete, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm too weak. I'm sorry I lied to you- right up to the end. I'm sorry, because I had told you before, recently, "I'm not going anywhere, Pete" and now I'm gone. I'm sorry, don't blame yourself. You shouldn't miss me. Forget about me. Don't do anything stupid, don't do this. I love you, be strong for your family, Pete, they love you._

_Goodbye Joe, I'm sorry, I have you to thank for almost every good thing that's happened to me. You're the one who got me into this crazy band. Essentially you saved me, I didn't die at 21 because of you and Pete and Andy and the band. Joe, this isn't your fault. I'm sorry, I love you, give your daughter a kiss for me._

_Goodbye Andy, I'm sorry. So very sorry. I'm selfish, but not too selfish to think that this won't effect anyone. Even if I don't deserve life, or the friendship we have, you've always been able to make me smile, at least a bit. Be strong, Andrew. I love you._

_Goodbye Everyone._

 

_Formerly,_

_Patrick Martin Vaughn Stump(h)_

 

 

 

When the two of them had finished, they both had tears in their eyes.

"We can't--- we almost los--- Patrick almost killed himself and I didn't even notice."

Joe sat down on one of the stools and put his head in his hands.

"I didn't notice way back when with Pete, and I didn't notice with you during our hiatus. Fuck. All my friends had wanted to die, and I didn't even notice!"

Andy hugged Joe.

"Hey, hey, you did notice. On some level you noticed because you went out of your way, went all out to get me to smile and laugh again. And Pete, that was a long time ago, and we were all idiots. We didn't think, I never- Patrick was going through a lot and we knew some of it, we didn't recognize the signs because they looked like the other signs that we learned to take care of Patrick. And Joe, he's still here, he's alive, Pete's alive, I'm alive, you are alive and we are not going anywhere. Okay? Patrick's getting out in 4 days, and we're much more prepared this time, right? It's going to be okay. We're all here, we're all alive, and no- no we're not all fine, but honestly we have never been all fine, but it's okay- we're going to get back to our own level of normal and it'll be good. Yeah, the four of us, in this band, rocking the world."

Joe nodded and whipped his eyes. 

"Yeah. Okay."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of inpatient sorry I didn't write any group theory.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tia on Chapter 51 Wed 11 Nov 2015 10:02PM EST  
> I think inpatient kinda but not like hospitals like the band get certified and lives with him in his home etc.  
> and some of  
> Idk on Chapter 51 Thu 12 Nov 2015 06:02AM EST  
> If you do decide to go with Tia's idea then I think he should live with Andy or Andy could live with him, and then maybe their relationship could develop  
> working slowly towards  
> CheckTheKettle on Chapter 52 Tue 17 Nov 2015 05:18PM EST  
> I just hope for a really happy ending as the story is progressing now ToT

Andy cleaned then re-cleaned his entire house.

He rearranged the furniture in his second bedroom.

He took the locks off the bedroom door and it's attached bathroom. 

He made sure to put all sharp objects away- out of site.

He went grocery shopping so the fridge and cupboards were filled with healthy food.

He checked and rechecked everything.

Eventually the alarm he had set on his phone went off and Andy got in his car, locking the door behind him.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Getting Patrick out was easier than his admission.

They both went over the do's and don'ts with one of the doctors.

Andy was given a folder and Patrick got back his things.

Andy ended up carrying the things to the car while Patrick held the folder.

Andy put the stuff in his trunk while Patrick got in the car.

Andy got in and buckled his seatbelt and turned on the car.

Patrick stopped him before he could put it in gear.

Patrick wasn't looking at Andy, he had his wallet out on his lap and one hand outstretched to Andy.

In the hand was a single razor blade. 

"You should take this."

Patrick mumbled, still looking away.

"Thank you"

Andy grabbed it and quickly put it in his door.

 

Andy turned on the radio after 7 minutes of not talking.

He drove for 49 minutes before he brought it up.

"What do you want for lunch?"

Patrick continued to stare out his window and shrugged.

"What were you planning?"

"Pasta?"

Andy said hopefully but cautiously.

Patrick didn't answer right away.

"Sure, I guess."

Andy nodded and focused back on the road.

A few minutes later Patrick said quietly.

"That's not going to meet my exchanges."

Andy nodded again and glanced over.

This time Patrick was looking his way.

"So what are you thinking?"

Patrick hesitated.

"What kind of pasta?"

"Any kind."

"I'm going to need protein."

"I know some high-protein pasta recipes"

"And a... reasonable amount of fat..."

"Got it"

"Fruit."

"Fruit salad?"

"Sure, um..vegetables."

"Easy"

Patrick sucked in a deep breath.

"Okay, good, then... pasta for lunch, yep"

"Are you sure you're okay with it?"

Andy asked.

Patrick nodded quickly. 

"It's under control. I think."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So... your bedroom, bathroom... Pete got the rest of your clothes. We also picked up your guitar and if you want any other instrument you have, I can text Joe and he'll grab it before he comes for dinner."

"No, it's fine." 

Patrick sat down on the bed.

"And we grabbed some books from your living room shelf."

"Okay."

Andy leaned against the door frame. 

"I'll get started on lunch, okay?"

Patrick nodded, looking around his new room.

"Okay, shout if you need anything."

Patrick flopped back after Andy left. 

He was exhausted. 

Physically and mentally.

Mostly mentally.

This was it.

Here he was. 

Recovering... again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been forever.  
> first finals. then family drama. then the new star wars- where i got a new otp. then binging on ALL the fics on the site with that pairing.   
> dear god i'm obsessive trash.


	57. Chapter 57

Even after spending years in a van/bus with Andy, Patrick had never had been this frustrated at him.

4 and a half weeks of living with Andy and Patrick wanted to scream.

The first week had been 'iffy'.

Patrick was used to his day being scheduled out after 2 weeks inpatient, but that didn't mean he wanted to eat- especially with Andy looking at him.

It was embarrassing.

He was a grown man, who needed 24 hour supervision, needed someone to make his food and make sure he ate it.

Patrick didn't want to be this way.

The looks he got from the guys when he didn't eat 'enough' or at all, or if he binged, or purged made his skin crawl.

Patrick didn't want to throw up, he didn't want to disappoint his friends and family, but....

Sometimes Patrick couldn't help it.

The second and third weeks had been better.

He had gotten into the swing of things and was 'full steam ahead' on this ''recovery train". 

But sometimes it felt like Patrick was just humoring Andy and everyone else.

He would eat because it was dinner time, but he didn't want to. 

He just rolled his eyes when Andy would call his name if Patrick had been in the bathroom too long.

Things were going smoothly.

Except for on his "bad days".

Those days were terrible, for both him and Andy (and for Pete and Joe)

Patrick wouldn't leave his room, most times he didn't even leave his bed. 

He wouldn't eat or drink no matter what the guys said, no matter how much they pleaded.

He wouldn't talk to Andy; wouldn't talk to anyone.

He didn't read, watch TV, or play his instruments, he didn't move, he just sat there, silently thinking.

Sometimes Patrick cried when he thought no one was listening, because living like this hurt so much.

But with around the clock supervision someone always was listening- they were just kind enough not to bring it up.

But now Patrick was just frustrated and angry.

He didn't want to have to eat when Andy said it was time.

He was confused because he would get hungry when it wasn't time for a meal.

He didn't want to get a snack because it meant more calories and he was already on an extremely high amount.

(His exchanges had been raised because his metabolism was burning through them too fast and he hadn't been gaining weight).

But according to his therapist, he should eat intuitively - eat when he felt hungry, that he should listen to his body.

But he didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to bring it up with Andy.

 

He was also frustrated because he hadn't left the house in weeks and he was feeling trapped and anxious and jittery.

He wanted to run... not to lose weight, or to punish himself, but because it helped clear his mind.

But he wasn't allowed, he hadn't met the goal weight where it would be 'safe' for him to exercise.

(Patrick was sure that Joe thought he hated him now, because he would always come over to keep Patrick company when Andy went to the gym, and Patrick would go and pout in his room).

 

Little things now made him angry.

Andy would censor what Patrick watched, worried that all the weight loss commercials would trigger him.

He couldn't close his bedroom door, even when Andy was still awake and the light from the hall made it impossible for him to sleep.

 

Patrick hated how all the kitchen knives were put away, out of reach- even if he never needed them.

He hated that they didn't trust him, though logically he knew why they didn't.

He hated that he almost always woke up sweating profusely. 

His stomach flopped when he had to wear a larger size jeans and shirt.

He hated that he didn't have any freedom.

He didn't want to be treated like a child!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you want next  
> send me a scenario or prompt or whatever  
> Just keep in mind that Patrick's actually going to recover rn


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DesolationCrow on Bits and Pieces 2 days ago
> 
> Maybe next you could write like Patrick having a nightmare and it could be like either Patrick's suicide attempt succeeded or he stayed dead when he fainted last and show how it impacted everyone, so then in the dream Andy could've been blaming himself and he could end up getting depressed like during the hiatus and then Patrick's dream ends with Andy killing himself. Then Patrick wakes up sobbing and Andy hears and comforts him (this next part is only if you want to) and Andy could like kiss Patrick but then when he realizes what he did he could pull away and start apologizing but then Patrick kisses him back. But overall I think the dream could help maybe shock Patrick into wanting to recover because he had seen how devastating his actions could be.
> 
> fallout on Chapter 57 Thu 07 Jan 2016 12:10PM EST  
> i think it's a good idea for Patrick to have a nightmare, that would be cool for the story

Patrick knew he was dreaming. 

He looked to his right and saw a giant floating goldfish surrounded by a ring of purple fire.

Yeah, definitely dreaming.

The thing was, Patrick didn't remember falling asleep.

And after some time he forgot he was dreaming.

Everything made sense (even the goldfish) because you don't realize how weird the shit in your dreams is until you wake up.

While still asleep and dreaming Patrick dreamt that he woke up.

 

He wasn't in his house, or in Andy's house, but he recognised it as the studio on Bayfield.

He walked down the hallway.

The hallway went on and on and on.

He finally made it to the door. 

He heard people talking on the other side of the door.

The voices sounded so familiar.

The door opened on it's own and Patrick quietly stepped inside. 

He didn't actually remember the scene in the room, but he recognized it.

The scene began to play out.

Patrick watched as he fell down to the floor, water bottle crashing next to him and spilling onto the carpet.

He watched as his friends rushed over. 

He noticed how Andy had just tossed his phone down, saw that he was still in a call with someone.

He watched Andy turn him onto his back, and Joe take his pulse.

He watched Pete bend over him and saw the look on his face when he told the others that Patrick- the one on the floor- wasn't breathing.

He watched as Andy took charge and started to beat his unmoving chest.

He noticed Pete in the corner of his eye make a call.

"Patrick isn't- he fainted and he's not breathing!"

Patrick guessed that Pete had dialed 9-1-1.

"Andy's doing CPR, and Joe said his pulse is low."

Pete's voice was high and panicked.

"Uh, it's 892 Bayfield Road."

Patrick watched Andy bend down again and pinched his nose.

"Yeah"

Pete said.

Then Joe said

"I'll wait outside for the ambulance, so they know where we are."

 

 

Patrick waited for the paramedics.

Andy continue to breath for him and press down on his still unmoving chest.

Andy had told him, later in the hospital that he had started to breathe again right before the EMTs arrived.

But he didn't.

Patrick watched in confusion as he was loaded onto the stretcher after the EMTs tried to get him to breath.

The scene shifted and he was in the ambulance with Joe in the corner.

One of the paramedics had put an oxygen mask on, he had started to breath shallowly.

The scene shifted again to him in a hospital bed, with oxygen and IV's and monitors connected to him.

Joe, Pete, and Andy were in the room, by the door, talking to a doctor.

Patrick didn't hear what the doctor said, but he watched his friends faces fall.

Disbelief. 

Guilt.

Despair.

Anger.

Pain. 

Sorrow. 

They were crying. 

A minute later Patrick watched himself flatline.

* * *

 

Patrick barely noticed the scene changes after that.

He wasn't dead. 

Right?

He wasn't dead.

But then the scene was his wake and funeral.

The casket seemed too big for his skeletal frame. 

He wondered if it would take less time for his body to decompose since there was so little left of him now.

Everyone was there.

His mom, his dad, his step dad, his siblings, Pete, Joe, Andy, Meagan, Marie, Bronx, Saint, Ruby, Brendon, Dallon, Spencer, (even Ryan), Tyler, Josh, Jenna, Gabe, Victoria, Nate, Alex, Ryland, the Ways, Frank, Ray, Bob, (you get the idea)... and many others.

He was dead.

They buried him.

6 feet under.

His mother was crying

His dad, his siblings, and his friends were grieving. 

 

**Here Lies Patrick Stump**

**Loving son and friend**

**THNKS FR TH MMRS**

** **

 

 

Patrick wanted desperately to wake up, but the dream continued.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pt 1


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2.1 (Joe)

The scene changed around him again and Patrick found himself seated on a couch in an unfamiliar living room with no one there but him.

The light on the ceiling, as well as a floor lamp in the corner lit the room. 

Patrick, who was still unnerved and unbalanced from watching his own funeral, noticed how nice the room was.

It was warm and cozy with a fireplace blazing, it was neatly organized and nicely decorated.

 

A picture caught Patrick's eye, so he stood up and quietly walked over to where it stood on the fireplace mantle. 

It was a picture of Fall Out Boy.

A small, silly photo someone had taken on set of one of the Save Rock and Roll music videos.

Patrick smiled, gently.

He glanced to the side and saw another, much different picture.

It was a family portrait. 

It was Joe, Marie, Ruby, and a small baby dressed in blue.

 

The sound of the front door opening startled Patrick, and he backed up automatically and looked for somewhere to hide.

Before he could Joe walked in, carrying a sleeping Ruby.

Joe looked around the entire room, eyes passing over Patrick by the fire.

Joe turned and walked back out into the hall, flicking the light stitches off on his way.

Heart hammering in his chest Patrick followed, remembering that- well... he was probably a ghost.

Joe continued down the hall, stopping and looking in every room, turning off the lights as he went. 

Eventually he went upstairs, after he locked the front door.

Upstairs Joe heading straight to the room farthest away.

It was the only room upstairs with a light on.

Joe stopped in the doorway and smiled.

Patrick looked around his taller friend and saw that Marie was fast asleep in a rocking chair with the baby asleep in her arms.

Joe turned around and walked into another room.

He flipped on a light and moved to the bed.

The entire room was purple, from wall to wall. 

Patrick watched as Joe tucked his daughter in. 

Then he kissed her good night, turned off the light and went back to his wife.

Patrick stayed in the doorway, not wanting to intrude.

Joe picked up the baby as gently as he could, but the boy still woke up.

At least he didn't cry.

"Hey there, Patrick."

Patrick nearly jumped from his spot in the doorway.

Joe saw him....?

"Did you wear your mom out?"

Joe cooed. 

To the baby.

Not Patrick.

Joe named his son... after him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 3 will be Pete  
> part 4 will be Andy


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2.2 (Joe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hope this suffices

Joe and Marie went to bed soon after putting baby Patrick down.

The morning came quickly.

It was odd, watching one of his closest friends and his family. 

Currently Patrick was sitting in one of the empty chairs in the kitchen, watching Joe and his family.

"Ruby, is your backpack ready? Daddy's dropping you off, I have to take your brother to the doctor this morning."

Ruby lifted her cereal bowl and tilted it so she could finish off the leftover milk.

"Is Patrick okay, Momma? Is he sick?"

Marie kissed the top of Ruby's head and picked up her empty bowl.

She moved, collecting Joe's empty plate as well and putting the two in the sink before replying

"No, your brother's fine, it's just a check up now that he's 2 years old. Now, where's your bag?"

Ruby jumped off the stool and ran upstairs.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take him, he's getting some shots this time, and you don't handle needles very well."

Joe grabbed his phone and keys.

"I'll be fine, besides you have to be at the studio by 10."

Marie leaned over the counter to kiss her husband.

"Now get out of here or Ruby will be late!"

Joe nodded

"Yeah, yeah. I love you."

Joe walked around to his son's high chair and kissed his head.

"Love you too!"

Marie called after him.

Patrick watched as Marie turned back to her son.

"Okay, kiddo. You need a bath and a diaper change."

Patrick got up, deciding that he would follow Joe to the school and studio, though he wanted to know more about baby Patrick.

* * *

 

Patrick wondered what Joe was recording.

Since Patrick was dead and a ghost, there wouldn't be Fall Out Boy...

Unless Patrick had been replaced, or maybe it was just the three of them now- Joe would be a great lead singer.

But, no, no...

Fall Out Boy was most likely gone, dead along with Patrick.

 

Maybe The Damned Things were back, off their indefinite hiatus.

Patrick sat in the passenger seat next to Joe as he drove and as Ruby talked on and on about some of her friends in her class.

The drive passed quickly and soon Joe was yelling

"Have fun, I love you!" 

As they pulled out of the school's drop off zone.

Joe turned on the radio, but quickly turned it off again as he heard the chorus of 'The Kid's Aren't Alright'.

Patrick looked at his friend.

Joe looked older, which made sense, and more world-worn.

He had a few more wrinkles and his mouth seemed more set in an almost frown.

* * *

 

Patrick followed Joe into a building he didn't recognize. 

Though Pete's DCD2 logo was on the wall behind the reception desk.

Patrick trailed behind Joe, ducking into rooms with their doors open, hoping to see Pete or Andy.

Instead of meeting up with Andy or Pete, Joe walked into one of the recording rooms, where people that Patrick didn't know were.

Patrick listened to Joe's conversation.

The 3 guys and 2 girls were a band that was apparently signed to DCD2. 

They were in the process of recording their 2nd album and Joe was working with them as a producer. 

 

The rest of the day was actually a bit boring.

The group- Three Arm Sally was pretty good, and had some great songs- which Patrick appreciated, but... there wasn't much he could actually do.

Patrick found that he couldn't interact with any objects, which made him question how he was able to sit at the table this morning and ride in the car. 

Patrick also found that he couldn't actually leave Joe.

Was he haunting Joe? 

What about Andy or Pete or his mom?

Honestly Patrick thought that if he were to haunt someone it would have been Pete. 

He was worried about him and Andy. 

Joe didn't call them, or mention them, not that the band did either.

Patrick thought that at least there would be some communication with Pete, it was his label, technically.

Nothing.

Lunch came and went and more recording and then Joe was waving goodbye to the group and he and Patrick were back in the car.

* * *

 

As the next day came, though mere seconds ago Patrick was in the car listening to the news with Joe, Patrick found himself back in the kitchen. 

The scene was mostly the same, though Ruby and Joe were still in their pj's since it was the weekend. 

"Meagan called last night."

Marie said as she made airplane noises and wiggled a spoon towards her son's mouth.

"Yeah?"

Joe looked up, adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah, her and Pete are coming up for a weekend away with the Saint."

Pete.

Patrick started paying more attention again.

"Oh."

Joe responded.

Marie sighed as baby Patrick spat out the green mush she was feeding him.

"Here, take over for me, he likes your silly faces more."

Marie got up and washed her hands in the sink as her husband took her seat and started to feed their son.

"Pete's probably going to go to the cemetery."

Marie's voice was quiet as she sat down across from Joe next to Ruby.

The cemetery, where he was buried.

This time Joe sighed, though baby Patrick was actually keeping most of the food in his mouth and eating it.

"I know."

"Are you going too?"

"I probably will, I should- I don't think it'd be good if Pete went by himself." 

"Meagan might join him."

Joe shook his head as baby Patrick squealed and threw some food at his dad.

"No, Meagan's going to have Saint, and you know he doesn't like the cemetery."

Marie nodded.

"Will you be okay? Going to see Patrick?"

Joe took a moment, then said.

"Yeah, I- I... it's been-- a little over 3 years, hon. I mean- I still miss him, you know? But... I've had time to.... grieve, I guess."

 

3 years... he'd been dead for more than 3 years.

His body was probably a fourth of the way decomposed.

Patrick felt sick thinking about it.

He was in a box, in the ground, rotting, alone.

Unless he had been cremated. 

He never really had written a will or said anything to anyone about how he wanted to be buried.

 

"Yes, I know Joe, but what about...?"

Joe looked troubled.

Patrick wanted to know what else they were talking about.

"Yeah... I don't know. It's been months and besides he's still..."

Patrick really wanted someone to finish a sentence.

Who 'he'? 

The two of them needed to stop playing the pronoun game.

"Uncle Pete and Auntie Meagan are coming!? And Saint? What about Bronx?"

Ruby looked so happy.

Joe and Marie shook themselves out of their thoughts.

"Yes dear, and Bronx is staying with his mom this time. Now come on, let's get dressed for the day."

Joe refocused on his son. 

Patrick lingered in the corner. 

* * *

 

Pete, Meagan and Saint arrived at 1:20 that afternoon. 

Patrick watched from his spot on the stairs.

Saint was walking, toddling off after Ruby to play.

Meagan looked absolutely radiant, as always.

And Pete, well... 

Patrick thought he looked happy, better, more grounded.

Patrick was glad for him. 

Maybe it really was him who was holding Pete back. 

Patrick had to sit impatiently through lunch and small talk.

Neither of his friends mentioned Andy.

Patrick was worried, he needed to see Andy, needed to know he was alright as well.

 

* * *

 

Patrick had to sit in the back seat of Joe's car.

Pete was sitting shotgun and Joe drove.

They didn't talk as they drove to the cemetery.

Patrick recognized it, his grandfather and grandma had been buried there.

 Joe shut the car off, but neither moved to get out.

"Have you heard from-"

Pete asked, Joe cut him off.

"No, nothing."

Pete nodded dejectedly, then got out.

 

Patrick was sure that he would have been out of breath and ready to collapse when they made it to his grave, if he was still alive.

Why was he buried on the top of a hill? 

Then.

He saw it. 

His gravestone.

 

**Here Lies Patrick Stump**

**Loving son and friend**

**THNKS FR TH MMRS**

** **

He wasn't sure if he should laugh or not. 

Patrick had never really thought about his tombstone and what it would say.

But it made sense. 

Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great.

 

Pete sat down next to his grave. 

Patrick was thankful that he didn't sit 'on' him.

Joe sat on the other side.

"I miss him, Joe. I miss..."

Joe and Patrick both looked at Pete who was staring at the headstone. 

"I miss how things were. When we were all together and happy."

Pete grimaced and turned to look at Joe (and Patrick).

"And now we..."

Pete gave a heavy side.

"You're probably the one who's... gotten the most better."

Joe nodded slightly.

"I still miss..."

He gestured in front of him.

Patrick wasn't paying attention anymore.

Something was- calling- him.

Something about his grave.

He felt faint.

He felt nauseous.

The scene faded away. 

Joe and Pete faded away as the stared sadly at his grave.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next is Pete.  
> I have mentioned that this isn't beta'd, right?  
> I know '60 chapters in and NOW they ask'


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt. 3 (Pete)

Patrick woke up quickly, startled and out of breath.

_'just a dream'_

Patrick sat up and looked around, then he groaned.

He wasn't back in Andy's house. 

It took him a moment before he recognized it.

He was in Pete's kitchen.

Maybe something had come up with Andy and Patrick was staying with Pete until Andy was back?

But he didn't' remember anything like that.

The front door opened and Bronx and Ashley walked in.

"Pete!?"

Ashley called from the hall.

Bronx just went upstairs.

"Yeah?"

It sounded like Pete was out back.

Moments later he was walking through the kitchen, with Saint on his hip.

Saint was older than in real life.

_It hadn't been a dream._

He was still a ghost. 

"Hey, Ash, where's Bronx?"

Ashley smiled and pointed upstairs.

"Hi"

She cooed at Saint, making him giggle. 

Once Patrick calmed down he noticed that this Saint was smaller- younger than he had been at Joe's.

"So, how's the book coming along?"

She asked.

Pete groaned.

"Slower than the 2nd one did."

She chuckled.

"Well, this one must be better than, maybe another Pulitzer."

"That was a fluke."

Pete protested.

Patrick was shocked.

Pete wrote a 2nd book?

He won a Pulitzer Prize?

He's writing a 3rd?

Patrick felt happy for his friend, a Pulitzer Prize was incredible. 

"Well, anyway, I'm sorry I can't stay any longer. I hope you boys have fun this week, I'll see you on Friday."

"Okay, Ash."

"Bye Bronx! I love you!"

She yelled.

"Love you too mom!"

Bronx called back.

Ashley rolled her eyes, smiled, and waved goodbye.

* * *

 Patrick followed Pete around all day.

His friend was a ball of energy, which made Patrick smile.

Saint was 3 and a half; which he kept reminding his brother about.

 Currently Pete was sitting on the patio, under the shade with his laptop.

Bronx and Saint were playing with the sprinkler.

Pete looked, good.

He seemed happy and calm.

Patrick noticed as he typed that Pete was wearing a ring- an engagement ring.

_Finally asked Meagan._

It was good to know.

It comforted Patrick in a way, to see that his friends' lives hadn't-- that his death hadn't effected their lives that much.

It was nice to see that they were happy and living.

* * *

 

A few days later Joe and Marie arrived in the early afternoon.

Patrick was shocked right away.

Marie was pregnant. 

Only Ruby was with them.

Which meant...

That he was in the past... or still the future- he was still dead.

So, time wasn't linear, everything was wibbly wobbly.

Pete was in the kitchen, getting beers from the fridge, which meant Patrick was in the kitchen sitting on the counter top.

"Hey Joe!"

He called when Joe walked in.

Patrick turned and watched the two.

"Hey Pete, how've you been, man?"

Joe reached over and gave Pete a one-armed hug before taking one of the beers.

"Uh, good. Yeah I've been good, what about you?"

Pete leaned against the counter, eyeing the tree outside through the window.

"I'm mostly good to, I mean all things considered."

Pete stared out the kitchen window, this time his eyes were unfocused.

"Right, right, it's hard."

He shook himself out of it, and looked over at Joe.

"So, how's my company, Trohman?"

Joe laughed, that sad look disappearing from his eye.

"I think you mean  _our_ company."

Pete gave a fake gasp.

"Isn't that what I said, my dear Joseph- I apologize"

Joe snorted, taking another sip of beer.

Joe co-owned DCD2?

And he was a producer- or something... in the future.

What about Andy?

* * *

 

"Hey, Meagan? Do you know where your fiance is?"

Meagan looked up from the coloring book her and her son were working on.

"I think he's upstairs writing."

Joe took a step back.

"Oh. Okay then."

Meagan raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"Why do you ask?"

Joe shrugged, before running a hand through his hair and sighing.

"I'm going to see Andy, and just wasn't sure if...."

_Andy_

Meagan flashed him a sad, understanding smile.

"You can ask, but today's not a "good day" for him."

Joe nodded.

"Yeah, I uh- I noticed that."

Patrick was confused and slightly afraid.

Where was Andy?

Meagan looked at him some more.

"Do you want company? Saint and I can come?"

Company? 

Why?

Andy was Joe's friend.

Saint looked up at his mother, face scrunched up.

"No, no. Besides Saint seems too devoted to coloring that tiger."

That didn't make sense either, Saint adored Andy.

"How about Marie?"

Joe shook his head.

"She's taking a nap upstairs, besides, she's been on her feet all day."

Patrick nodded along absently, she should be resting.

"Okay, Joe. Are you going to be here for dinner?"

Joe shrugged, waved goodbye and left the room.

Patrick followed him outside, but wasn't able to leave with him.

  _Andy_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's like all over the place.  
> yes we're going back.  
> I plan on making Andy's part like just a few months after Patrick's death.  
> Not sure what I'm gonna put in about what's 'up' with Andy, but...  
> In my head, Pete's second book- the won that won the prize- is about everything that happened.  
> And this one the 3rd is like a composition of poems, or lyrics because there's no Patrick, there's no band, but Pete always has lyrics.


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt.4.1 (Andy)

Andy was having a good day.

He got out of bed today, without prompting and help from Carren.

He willingly left his room.

Andy didn't really understand why today was a good day.

Nothing had changed.

Nothing good, honestly.

Though nothing bad either.

Maybe that was it. 

Life hadn't gotten worse. 

Andy thought.

Andy smiled to himself and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Carren make note of it and his good mood.

Which made Andy smile more.

Maybe he was getting better.

He mused.

Maybe he was moving on.

Andy frowned, tensing up at the very thought. 

Moving on meant forgetting, and Andy didn't want to do that.

Dr. Neal told him that moving on was normal and healthy, that in order to get better he had to move on with his life.

Part of him knew that, knew that it was something he should/had to do.

Patrick had been dead for 7 months.

Pete and Joe had.

Meagan, Marie, Bronx, and Ruby had.

All of their- Patrick's other friends had.

Even Patricia was moving on with her life.

So why couldn't Andy.

Why was he stuck like this?

He asked himself.

Andy looked around the main room.

He watched some of the other patients.

He sighed.

Today was a good day.

He reminded himself.

Andy got up off the couch he had been sitting in all day, aside from when he had to go to breakfast and lunch.

He looked back to see Carren get up and follow him.

He waited until she moved to his side, instead of trailing behind him.

"Can we go to the Rec Center?"

Andy asked, voice soft and shy.

Carren's face lit up with a dazzling smile. 

"Of course, Andy."

Andy gave her a small smile back

Today was a good day.

* * *

 

Patrick had watched, bemused, as he followed Andy around.

He had woken up in an uncomfortable chair, with the sun coming in through the blinds and blinding him.

Patrick didn't have the confusion of whether or not he was dreaming, like he did the previous two times.

Obviously he was dead.

He sat there and watched as Andy slowly woke up.

Andy looked.... sick.

He also looked so sad.

Patrick followed Andy out of the room, after the latter had gotten dressed.

Patrick followed him out into the hall.

Patrick recognized where he was, or what it was, not the specific building.

Andy was in some sort of inpatient facility.

Patrick should have seen that coming- Andy wasn't wearing shoes, and his sweatpants were loose without a string.

Patrick followed, confused and cautious, Andy to the bathroom, the nurses station- where he met Carren- to a couch, to breakfast, to the couch again, to lunch, and back to the same couch.

Andy spent the whole day sitting there.

So, Patrick had as well.

Andy didn't talk much.

Occasionally Carren would ask something or make a comment and Andy would answer her, but that was it.

The time on the couch was filled with writing and drawing and Andy staring off while tapping out an unknown beat.

Most of Carren's comments were on the impressive sketches, and impressive they were.

Andy sketched their friends, his mom and Andy even started but didn't finish a sketch of Patrick.

Patrick wondered how long Andy had been here.

He had cycled back more than 2 years from Joe's house to Pete's.

Patrick was surprised when Andy suddenly stood up.

He had a determined look in his eye.

Patrick noticed that Carren looked cautious.

Both he and Carren quickly got up to follow Andy down the hall.

Andy paused for them to catch up.

"Can we go to the Rec Center?"

Andy asked, voice soft and shy.

Patrick watched as Carren's face lit up with a dazzling smile. 

"Of course, Andy."

Andy gave her a small smile back.

Patrick wanted him to smile more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pt. 4.2 (Andy)

Patrick sat next to Andy.

He had been... "haunting" here for 3 days.

It hurt to watch Andy, most of the time.

The Andy he knew, when he had been alive, had been happy.

Andy had been the stable one, the rock of the group. 

Andy was the one that they turned to.

Andy had been there for, been friends with Pete first.

He had been there with Pete in previous bands, like Racetraitor and Arma Angelus.

He had been there for all of Pete's ups and downs.

And he came and was there for and became apart of Fall Out Boy.

Andy had still been there for Pete after that, but he was also there for Joe and Patrick.

Andy and Joe took care of each other, especially when stupid interviewers would only address Pete and Patrick.

Andy was there for the two of them, who weren't used to touring, who were still in high school, who were still minors, who missed their moms.

Andy had been there when Joe and Patrick (and Pete) had been homesick.

Andy more recently... Andy had been there for Patrick.

Andy had noticed Patrick's behaviour. 

Andy had worked with him, had comforted him, had made him eat, had talked to him on the bus on dreary hate-filled days and nights.

He had pulled Patrick out of his self-deprecating---

The door in front of them opened.

"Dr. Foremen's ready for you now."

* * *

 

Patrick felt out of place, uncomfortable, and useless sitting in the empty seat by Andy and the doctor.

Patrick wanted to say something- do something, anything to comfort Andy, to be there for him, but he was a ghost.

So he could only listen and observe.

Patrick noticed that Andy wasn't comfortable with the doctor.

His shoulders were hunched and he seemed to curl into himself.

Patrick didn't like Dr. Foremen much, either.

He was an old white man, and you could tell that he was balding- even though he wore a toupee.

He had a nasally voice and a 'creeper' mustache. 

He sounded condescending, and his eyes and body language lacked compassion and actual interest.

This man didn't care about Andy, and it made Patrick upset.

Because Andy deserved better.

His friend was suffering and Patrick thought that Andy- not Andy- Andy didn't deserve to be this sad.

 

"Andrew, I would like to revisit the events that led you to be in our facility."

Andy nodded, looking out the window.

"A little over 3 months ago, can you tell me what was going on then, what you were feeling."

Andy sighed, shrugged and thought of what to say.

Patrick and the doctor waited.

"Lonely."

Dr. Foremen wrote something down.

"Yes, what else?"

"Sad, afraid, hurt."

"What was going on then?"

Andy abruptly looked away from the window and stared at Dr. Foremen.

"One of my best friends died."

Patrick shivered at Andy's tone.

"So you were grieving, then"

Andy shrugged and looked back at the window. 

"Tell me about your friend, Andrew."

"I already talked with Dr. Brown, so you should know everything from his notes."

"Yes, but I would like to hear it from you, Andrew."

Andy huffed.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about Patrick with you."

"Could you tell me why you don't want to?"

"It hurts to talk about Patrick, it- I don't like to think about what happened after- what I did."

He added.

"And I don't like you."

Dr. Foremen wrote some more notes. 

Patrick really wanted to just hug Andy.

"Andrew, you're still grieving. You're stuck at the forth stage, depression. In order for you to get better, you have to accept that Patrick is gone. And I'm sorry you feel that way about me, but I'm the only available doctor since Dr. Brown is in the hospital, recovering from surgery."

There was a awkward silence.

"Alright, how about we talk a bit about the episode that brought you hear... could you tell me that?"

Andy hung his head in shame.

"We buried... we buried him the previous weekend. I was alone in my house. I was... I don't know what I was thinking- I wasn't thinking, I guess... and I... well, um.... and Joe found me. He called- I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I.... I don't know why I--- I never-- I just missed Pat-trick and I, I felt alone. And.... I."

Andy took a few calming breaths.

Patrick was horrified. 

Andy tried to kill himself.

Over him, because he died...?

Patrick didn't understand.

He wasn't that important.

Joe and Pete were okay.

They were happy, even if he was dead.

Patrick didn't understand how Andy would...

Honestly, Andy wasn't the one that Patrick expected to react this way.

And it hurt, because Andy was so....

Patrick l...

Andy was too good for him, for this...

Andy.

"I never got to tell Patrick that I---------------"

The room faded unexpectedly. 

Patrick felt tired.

He felt like he was waking up. 

He needed to know, though, what Andy was going to say!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	64. Chapter 64

This time Patrick knew he was actually awake, it wasn't another dream within a dream, it was real.

He was in Andy's spare bedroom, exactly where he fell asleep. 

Patrick laid there, in bed for a few minutes, processing his dreams.

The parts that he could remember, that is.

Some things were already gone or slipping away as he became more conscious.

He could remember that, in the dreams, he had been dead, and that--

He tried to remember.

Joe and Pete had been doing well, but Andy...

Patrick sat up and quickly swung his legs off the side of the bed.

He stood up and stumbled out of the room and down the stairs.

"Andy?"

Patrick yawned and went into the kitchen.

It was empty, so Patrick checked the time on the microwave. 

7:36

Andy should be up by now, and back from his morning jog.

"Andy?"

Patrick called out again, moving to the living room.

It was empty, just like the kitchen.

"Andy!?"

Patrick raised his voice, he was worried now, his mind kept going back to his dreams.

"Andy!?"

Patrick walked throughout the entire downstairs, he was about to go upstairs when the front door opened. 

Andy walked in carrying grocery bags.

"Hey, good morning"

Andy smiled at him, kicking the door closed and headed into the kitchen.

"Good morning."

Patrick's heart was slowing down now.

Andy opened the fridge and began putting some of the food away.

"Have you been awake long?"

Patrick moved around the counter and grabbed some cans from a bag, he shook his head and turned around to the cabinets. 

"Just woke up, actually. What about you?"

Andy grabbed the now empty, reusable bags and put them away.

"I got up at 6:00 like usual, I'm actually surprise your up this early."

Patrick rolled his eyes, feeling weirdly calm and happy.

"I had a really... _weird_ dream." 

Andy sat on one of the stools and watched Patrick with a look of pride when he opened up the fridge.

"Yeah?"

Patrick set the soy milk on the counter and reached up in one of the cabinets and got down a box of cereal.

"Yeah... it was..."

Patrick trailed off as he poured the cereal in a bowl, hesitating before pouring more.

Andy nodded for him to continue.

"What... what do you think... uh"

Patrick bit his lip and poured the milk.

"If I had died, what do you think would have happened. Like what would you have done?"

Andy frowned and seemed to think about it.

"Patrick...?"

Patrick shook his head at the worry in Andy's voice.

"No, no. It's not- I'm not- Andy, I promise I'm not thinking about suicide- I'm actually really happy right now, it's just that that was what happened in my dreams last night."

Patrick ate a spoonful of cereal, smiling reassuringly to Andy.

Andy relaxed and spoke slowly.

"I think... I don't really know..."

He sighed and shrugged.

"But like, would you guys miss me?... would you be sad?"

Andy frowned again.

"Patrick, yes of course we would."

Patrick shrugged and took another bite.

"We would be- I would be- we'd miss you, we-I wouldn't be the same without you. I think that... Fall Out Boy would be done, forever, and I think... I feel like we'd- Pete and Joe and I- we'd drift apart, you know? Because... we'd remind each other of you too much."

Patrick was busy chewing to answer, but he looked intently at Andy.

"I hadn't thought of that, in my dreams, in them... they were separate, Andy. First I saw Joe and Marie, then Pete and Meagan, then you... and... the time- like relative to my death was weird, I think, I can't really remember, but you guys still were friends..."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Patrick finished eating his bowl of cereal. 

"What were you going to do today?" 

Patrick asked, partly to change the topic, as he set his empty bowl in the sink and grabbed a banana from on the counter. 

He leaned against the counter and looked at Andy. 

Andy, despite Patrick being out for about 2 and a half months, still looked so goddamn happy that Patrick was eating- and that he was taking the initiative.

"Nothing in particular, I think Pete mentioned something about a barbeque or something, maybe a party, I'm not sure."

Patrick nodded.

"Do we have peanut butter?"

He asked after peeling the banana.

Andy shrugged, but got up and checked the cabinets.

He grabbed some and handed it to Patrick.

"I think I'm going to read for a bit." 

Patrick nodded and sat down at the table, eating, with a smile on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking prompts again if you have any ideas, otherwise the stories gonna be like boring and shit.


	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fallingout left the following comment on Bits and Pieces:  
> Now that Patrick is getting better, maybe he could have some flashbacks to soul punk era. So he could realize how bad he really was. I love this story :):))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning!   
> Soul Punk era!   
> I'm trying to go off what I remember of my past.

Tour had started 5 days ago, and Patrick was frantic.

The good thing was that he was doing this alone.

No Pete, no Joe, no Andy.

No one to comment on his… habits.

No one that Patrick had to eat dinner or lunch with.

No one outside the bathroom door to hear his dirty secret.

No one looking over his shoulder, peering at all the horrible sites that Patrick now visited.

Like the one right now, The Ana and Mia Chronicles.

Or the other ones in the other tabs, Pretty Disordered - A Pro Ana Blog, Dying to be Thin, and Anamia 101.

Patrick was scrolling through the blogs, ignoring everything else, especially his stabbing hunger, focusing on the ‘Thinspiration’, the photos and long journal like entries.

Most of the site was geared towards and run by teenage girls, but the amount of information and success that they had made the sites perfect for him.

He stopped scrolling, coming upon a list of “Tips and Tricks”.

Patrick read through them, trying to commit them to memory.

• Say you're not hungry, and that you'll eat later. Emphasize on "Later".

• Say you already ate. But be detailed (example, I already ate Pizza with ____, I already had lunch at school.)

• Don't be vague, be specific. If someone offers you cookies or other snacks, ask if they can save you some for later on, say you'd love to have some, but you need room for [insert food] that you'll be having later on for dinner/lunch...

• If you're at the dinner table and there are no safe foods around, pour a huge glass of diet coke/water/anything with little or no calories. Put some food on your plate but don't fill it too much, that is with the least caloric foods on the table, then eat some food and chew as long as possible, then drink as much as possible, but don't stop and sit there doing nothing, people will get suspicious.

• Also at the dinner table, don't eat in patterns... trust me everyone's eyes will be on you. Just eat as normally as possible, and if you eat too much you can purge later on or exercise it off.

• If you know that you won't be able to skip dinner with your family that day, then eat absolutely nothing during the whole day and save all the calories for dinner. You can’t possibly go over 500 calories unless the food is deep fried and filled with junk.

• You won't know how many calories are in that homemade food your mom made, so be careful for any hidden calories (olive oil, butter), especially in salads! Do not eat a salad that has dressing.

• Say you're on a diet, be very blunt and honest. That way no one would think of why you're not eating desserts or any fried foods... If you try to convince them you're not on a diet and still are not eating fried food, then they’ll get suspicious. Just be confident.

• Skip as many meals as possible (with family), it's not so hard to do so.

• Don't be too paranoid at the dinner table, no one notices food as much as you do, so they won't be that obsessed with what you do or do not eat. Most probably they aren't even paying attention to what you actually eat... So be calm and eat what you can. [one time at the dinner table I started spitting food in a tissue paper and no one noticed.]

• Don't talk about food too much, one time my sister told me that all I talk about is food, so don't do that... Even though you can't stop thinking about food, don't express it.

• Say you have a stomachache.

• Say you have a headache.

• Eat ONLY when people are eating... Save your calories!

• Drink tea and coffee as much as possible, with NO CREAM OR SUGAR.

• If you feel like you're going to binge, go drink TONS of water/diet coke, and snap a rubber band on your wrist, that way you'll snap back into reality, then think of the emotions you'll go through if you binge and purge. It'll hopefully prevent you from binging. • Also you can try being around people as much as possible. It would work because you can't binge in front of people... just be around your family as much as possible when you feel a binge coming up.

• If you're hungry but have no appetite, go drink water. If you're craving foods and are in binge mode, go eat the food you're craving but don't swallow it. Spit it out and rinse your mouth with water before swallowing anything, that way you won't ingest any calories.

• Don't wear way oversized clothes, wear clothes that are SLIGHTLY baggy if you're self-conscious, by wearing clothes that are too baggy A) people would be suspicious, B) you'll look way thinner than you already are.

 

Patrick thought about which of the tricks and tips he already did, and those he didn’t.

He hadn’t bought any new clothes, so his weren’t baggy.

It wasn't possible for him to be around people when he felt like binging, he had no one, but his self-control was holding strong.

He drank a lot of water everyday throughout the day, but he didn’t like tea or coffee without any additives.

He could never tell anyone that he was on a diet.

Patrick shuddered thinking of how embarrassing that would be.

He had patterns when he ate, but they didn’t matter because no one was around to notice that he cut all his food into mini pieces, that he chewed each piece exactly 30 times, that he would set down his fork and take a sip of water between every bite so he wouldn’t over eat.

Patrick abruptly closed his laptop and stood up.

He swayed, dizzy, and almost fell.

When his vision came back Patrick rushed over to his bag on the other side of the hotel room and pulled out a pair of sweats.

Quickly, so he wouldn’t have to see his disgustingly fat naked body for too long, Patrick changed.

The bad thing about touring was that he couldn’t go to the gym every day.

Since this started Patrick had started going to the gym for at least an hour, most often 3 hours, a day.

On tour he couldn’t run on the treadmill at top speed until he felt like he was floating, he couldn’t push himself more until floating turned to dying.

He could only do sit ups, push-ups, crunches, and other pitiful exercises that weren’t helping him lose weight like running did.

Patrick was always jittery now, he was running on pure adrenaline most days since he could never seem to sleep.

Adrenaline and diet pills.

The results were the way the scale slowly ticked down, how his hands shook, and the headaches that came by 5pm and stayed all night.

Patrick dropped to the floor and started a set of crunches.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50.

Patrick then moved to push-ups, then squats, then sit ups, then… he fainted on the floor out of sheer exhaustion.

 

Tomorrow he would repeat the cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to write some more chapters with Soul Punk era! Patrick and how his disorder was then.
> 
> Thanks for the suggestion, fallingout!


	66. Chapter 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> small chapter with Patrick on some bullshit 'Pro-Ana'/'Thispiration' site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this includes a list of 'tips/tricks' from an actual website that can be triggering.  
> The website I mention has been taken down, I think.

Patrick lay awake on the bed in Andy’s spare room, where he had been staying for the past 5 months.

They had celebrated Joe’s 30th birthday earlier in the night.

The cake, though delicious, was not settling in his stomach well.

Patrick tried to remember the last time he had had cake…

He had to think very hard and very long.

It was sometime during his tour for Soul Punk.

Patrick tried to get more comfortable as his mind drifted back to how it was during that tour.

* * *

 

 

253.

That’s all he had left that day.

He had already consumed 647 calories.

Since the limit that he had set was 900 calories a day, Patrick was only allowed 253 more.

If he went over then he’d add a mile to his morning jog tomorrow and would, of course, purge the excess.

Part of him said to just not eat anything else, 647 calories was better than 900, after all.

 

Patrick was laying on a bed at some hotel he didn’t remember the name of.

His head ached, and his stomach was doing flips.

He had promised Brendon that he’d go with Panic! to dinner in an hour, but Patrick couldn’t even raise his head without a fresh wave of nausea hitting him.

Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat Patrick slowly rolled over so he could reach his previously abandoned laptop on the other half of the bed.

He opened his laptop and unlocked it.

Opening up Google Chrome Patrick clicked on one of his bookmark folders (labeled Tips/Tricks), he clicked on the first bookmark in the folder.

Patrick closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the feeling of nausea.

The page had loaded by the time he opened his eyes.

**Ana and Mia Chronicles.**

The bookmark was a specific post uploaded on the site, Tips and Tricks.

The post consisted of a list.

Patrick read through them again.

-Drink water, it fills you up when you are hungry and makes purging easier.

-Drink diet soda. It'll fill you up and only has 1 calorie.

Patrick ignored this one, diet soda tasted different from real soda and just left him wanting the real kind.

Besides diet soda was bad for you.

-Brush your teeth. The taste of toothpaste will be horrid with the taste of food.

-Every calorie counts. When you're sitting, shake your leg, tap a pencil, never stop moving.

Patrick did this in the beginning, but now he was too tired… so tired.

-Stay cold. Your body burns more calories trying to warm you up.

Patrick didn’t think he had a choice, he was constantly cold.

-Cut food into tiny pieces.

He did.

-Put your fork down between bites.

He tried to, sometimes he forgot.

-Chew everything a certain number of times. Eat in patterns.

25

-Do not ever eat anything you do not know the exact amount of calories in. Sometimes you can fool yourself into thinking you've eaten less than you have. Remember, numbers do not lie.

Patrick shuddered thinking of all the times he had just guessed on the amount of calories.

-Track progress by measurements and not the scale alone. Scales are affected by everything from the weather to the time of day, but the numbers on a measuring tape are affected by nothing except the actual size of your body.

Patrick kept a plastic tape measure, like the one’s in small sewing kits in his bag.

-If you must go out to eat, go to the restaurant’s web page beforehand, and find something safe to eat. Do not eat bread or appetizers. Order a salad with dressing on the side if everyone else is having appetizers. If there is nothing safe on the menu most places will make you a plain piece of grilled chicken or fish if you ask.

Patrick stopped and tried to think if Brendon had told him where they were eating.

He hadn’t.

-Become a vegan or vegetarian.

Being a vegetarian hadn't really helped Patrick that much.

-Count to 100 if you're having a craving. Hopefully it will go away.

-Pinch all your fat and see how disgusting it is and then you'll think that if you eat you'll just add more to it.

This happened daily for Patrick.

-If you eat, ONLY eat when people are watching.

He did.

-Obesity is disgusting. Remember that.

Remember what he used to look like, how he used to be.

-Thinspiration is your best friend. You think you've lost weight? Trust me you haven't. Just check out the models online and you'll realize that.

He didn’t even need to go online; all his friends were thin like the models.

-Keep in mind - If your skinny friend eats a lot, that DOES NOT mean that you can do the same.

Patrick thought of Brendon and Spencer and Gabe and… not the guys, he didn’t think about Joe or Andy or Pete.

-Make a list of things to do instead of eating.

But Patrick didn’t want to do anything, usually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of finishing this story soon... I have other stories that I want to focus on and a ton of new ideas for one-shots.   
> Let me know what you think


	67. Chapter 67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to the fans

~~~~Patrick reclined on his hotel room bed with his laptop open on his lap and a fruit smoothie on the bedside table next to him.

 

_~~Dear fans,~~ _

_~~Fans,~~ _

_~~To all my fans,~~ _

_To all the fans,_

_I owe you all an apology. ~~For many years~~ Since 2009, ~~I've had many~~ I've been dealing with ~~an eating disorder~~ ~~some stuff~~ ~~some issues~~ a few issues. ~~Just recently,~~ ~~Only just this past year,~~ Last year I ~~finally got treatment~~ ~~got help~~_

"Shit" Patrick muttered and let his head fall back against the wall. With a deep breath, he started over.

_To all the fans,_

_I owe you all an apology._

_Since 2009, I have been dealing with a few health issues. Last year during the tour these issues ~~escalated~~ ~~~~worsened, causing me to seek professional help. ~~I'm sure you're all aware of the rumors.~~ There have been many rumors in the media and online about ~~what's wrong with me~~ my health and ~~you all deserve the truth~~ ~~I wanted to set the record straight.~~ ~~To some of you, this won't come as a surprise~~ ~~This is serious.~~_

 

Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

 

_I was diagnosed with an eating disorder; anorexia. ~~When the band split~~ ~~During Fall Out Boy's hiatus I didn't~~_

 

Patrick groaned in frustration.

 

_Anorexia is ~~a disease characterized especially by a pathological fear of weight gain leading to faulty eating patterns, malnutrition, and usually excessive weight loss.~~ a disease that is characterized by a fear of weight, weight gain, and food. ~~It has one of the highest mortality rates for any mental illness.~~_

_I had an irrational fear of food and an unhealthy, distorted view of myself and my body._

 

 

_To all the fans,_

_I owe you all an apology._

_Since 2009 I have been dealing with a few health issues. Last year during the tour these issues worsened, causing me to seek professional help. There have been many rumors in the media and online about my health and I wanted to set the record straight, as you all deserve to know the truth and I am no longer afraid to talk about it. I was diagnosed with anorexia_ nervousa _; an eating disorder. Anorexia is a disease characterized by a fear of weight, weight gain, and food. I had an irrational fear of food and a distorted view of my body and myself._

_Since my diagnosis, I have been recovering with help from the guys. It hasn't been easy and as anyone in recovery can attest to, I've had many relapses. Along with my diagnosis of anorexia, I've been dealing with depression, self-harm, and anxiety._

 

 

'So far, so good.' 

Patrick thought to himself.

He wanted to let the fans know, he needed, no he wanted to tell them what had been going on.

 

_To all the fans,_

_I owe you all an apology._

_Since 2009 I have been dealing with a few health issues. Last year during the tour these issues worsened, causing me to seek professional help. There have been many rumors in the media and online about my health and I wanted to set the record straight, as you all deserve to know the truth and I am no longer afraid to talk about it. I was diagnosed with anorexia_ nervousa _; an eating disorder. Anorexia is a disease characterized by a fear of weight, weight gain, and food. I had an irrational fear of food and a distorted view of my body and myself._

_Since my diagnosis, I have been recovering with help from the guys. It hasn't been easy and as anyone in recovery can attest to, I've had many relapses. Along with my diagnosis of anorexia, I've been dealing with depression, self-harm, and anxiety. It has been a long_

 

'This is why Pete writes most of our lyrics' 

Patrick sighed.

 

_It has been a long ~~journey~~ ~~road~~ recovery. _

 

 

_To all the fans,_

_I owe you all an apology._

_Since 2009 I have been dealing with a few health issues. Last year during the tour these issues worsened, causing me to seek professional help. There have been many rumors in the media and online about my health and I wanted to set the record straight, as you all deserve to know the truth and I am no longer afraid to talk about it. I was diagnosed with anorexia_ nervousa _; an eating disorder. Anorexia is a disease characterized by a fear of weight, weight gain, and food. I had an irrational fear of food and a distorted view of my body and myself._

_Since my diagnosis, I have been recovering with help from the guys. It hasn't been easy and as anyone in recovery can attest to, I've had many relapses. Along with my diagnosis of anorexia, I've been dealing with depression, self-harm, and anxiety. It has been a long recovery._

_In the beginning, my eating disorder was a way for me to cope, initially, with the band's hiatus. But it spiraled out of control until I couldn't even hope to control it. ~~In the beginning,~~  After the fall out of Fall Out Boy's break up my eating- my weight was the only thing that I felt I had any control over. And I took it to an extreme until I physically and mentally could not stop. _

_The band's decision ~~to~~ for a hiatus wasn't a light one, each of us have talked about some of our reasons, and it was something we felt we had to do. And I honestly feel like, despite everything that has happened, it was a good decision. We all wanted different things for the future and had different ideas of what direction to take the band in. ~~I wrote about some of that before, but back then when Fall Out Boy was on hiatus I was a bit self-centered~~_

_~~It's not something~~ ~~I don't blame the others~~ ~~I~~_

_~~With this disorder~~  With my health being ~~as it was~~ ~~the way it was~~ the way it's been I know ~~that my performances~~   ~~I haven't been giving Fall Out Boy~~ haven't been giving all of you my very best, and I apologize. You, the fans, are the reason ~~that I am~~ ~~that we are~~ that the band ~~has gotten this far~~ ~~has made it this far~~ has become ~~what it is~~ all that it is. You all are the reason that ~~I didn't~~ ~~that I have~~ that I've been this fortunate. This band, all the opportunities that came along with it, all the friends I've made, all that I've learned, all of your support are the best things in my life. ~~Which is why, today, I'm writing to explain, not to excuse, but to explain that I am in recovery and that~~ I know that Fall Out Boy has impacted many of you, that our songs have given some of you hope, have helped you and honestly ~~same~~ this band; Joe, Andy, and Pete have been there for me every step of the way. They, along with all of you, are the reason that I am alive today. _

_I wanted to let you know that even though I don't know what the future may hold, and that there will, most likely, be more relapses and problems and fights and arguments in the future. I am recovering._

_For all of you, for my family, for Pete, for Joe, for Andy, and most importantly for myself._

 

_-Patrick Stump_

 

Patrick smiled slightly to himself. 

This was it.

 

To all the fans,

I owe you all an apology.

      Since 2009 I have been dealing with a few health issues. Last year during the tour these issues worsened, causing me to seek professional help. There have been many rumors in the media and online about my health, and I wanted to set the record straight, as you all deserve to know the truth and I am no longer afraid to talk about it. I was diagnosed with anorexia nervousa; an eating disorder. Anorexia is a disease characterized by a fear of weight, weight gain, and food. I had an irrational fear of food and a distorted view of my body and myself.

     Since my diagnosis, I have been recovering with help from the guys. It hasn't been easy, and as anyone in recovery can attest to, I've had many relapses. Along with my diagnosis of anorexia, I've been dealing with depression, self-harm, and anxiety. It has been a long recovery.

     In the beginning, my eating disorder was a way for me to cope, initially, with the band's hiatus. But it spiraled out of control until I couldn't even hope to control it. After the fall out of Fall Out Boy's break up my eating- my weight was the only thing that I felt I had any control over. And I took it to an extreme until I physically and mentally could not stop.

     The band's decision for a hiatus wasn't a light one, each of us has talked about some of our reasons, and it was something we felt we had to do. And I honestly feel like, despite everything that has happened, it was a good decision. We all wanted different things for the future and had different ideas of what direction to take the band in.

     With my health being the way it's been I know I haven't been giving all of you my very best, and I apologize. You, the fans, are the reason that the band has become all that it is. You all are the reason that I've been this fortunate. This band, all the opportunities that came along with it, all the friends I've made, all that I've learned, all of your support are the best things in my life.

     I know that Fall Out Boy has impacted many of you, that our songs have given some of you hope, have helped you and honestly this band; Joe, Andy, and Pete have been there for me every step of the way. They, along with all of you, are the reason that I am alive today.

     I wanted to let you know that even though I don't know what the future may hold, and that there will, most likely, be more relapses and problems and fights and arguments in the future. I am recovering.

 

For all of you, for my family, for my friends, for Pete, for Joe, for Andy, and most importantly for myself.

 

-Patrick Stump

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end


End file.
